#or share anything without consulting with the gang first

[valtsv]

Have u talked abt your ocs from the tag anywhere? Or the setting

so technically there are two angelverses! in an rp server me and some friends made, we combined two seperate independent original fiction settings we both called 'angelverse'. that angelverse is set in a world where two different universes were combined together by a cosmic collision event, which has massively destabilized society and made the existence of angels and demons known to the majority of the world and not just paranormal research institutions (both government-funded and independent), angel-worshipping cultists, and the unlucky few who just got caught up in it all, and created a lot of tension and conflict as a result.

however, both angelverses used to create this setting also exist as their own independent concepts, and mine is set in a universe where angels are a type of militaristic eldritch biomachine-aliens who use earth as a dumping ground for their greatest failures; the exiled Fallen and the "Reassigned" - angels who aren't problematic enough to be officially banished from the Republic of Angels but who have been removed from their original roles and placed on earth to get them out of the way as they're considered incapable of contributing anything worthwhile to the Republic.

here is a character building guide i made which explains the different species that exist in my angelverse and expands a little on the worldbuilding

naming conventions and an explanation of the concept of domains

an explanation of angelic contamination (CONTENT WARNINGS: discussions of terminal illness, suicide/assisted suicide, body and medical horror)

vessel entrapment (CONTENT WARNINGS: discussions of terminal illness-like fantasy condition, capital punishment, body horror)

a powers and limitations guideline i made for RP purposes, just for fun (kind of outdated but whatever)

[miraculouscontent]

Not really directed at anything specifically, more just based on things I’ve heard from friends and what they say others are talking about. Just needed to get this off my chest.

So... “Syren” airs, and Chat Noir gets upset by a secret that is neither Plagg’s nor Ladybug’s to tell. Both the fandom and the show/writers think he is right for doing this, even as he threatens to quit while Paris drowns if not told the secret. He is ultimately rewarded in the end with the secret because, according to one of the writers, “Chat was correct and deserved to know.”

Later down the line, “Truth” gets a synopsis.

It hasn’t aired, it simply gets a synopsis (I must also add that a previous synopsis in the same season had been wrong).

Based on said synopsis, the fandom gets riled up about Luka supposedly being upset by a secret Marinette is keeping (her identity), going on about how he “doesn’t have a right to Marinette’s secret,” “is being extremely entitled,” and “doesn’t deserve to know Marinette’s identity,” as it is “Marinette’s right” to tell whoever she wants.

In truth, the actual episode features Luka struggling and fighting against the akuma, because he actually believes that he is not, in fact, entitled to Marinette’s secret, wanting her to share it rather than it being forced out of her. He is then “punished” for this when the show has the couple break up due to Marinette believing that she’s not allowed to have a boyfriend, all thanks to her secrets. Nevertheless, Luka maintains his previous stance and wants Marinette to tell him things whenever she’s ready to do so.

“Gang of Secrets” airs two episodes later, featuring the exact opposite philosophy. Over the phone, Marinette’s friends claim that they want her to talk with them when she’s ready, only to barrel into her room minutes later and insist that she talk to them. She refuses, kicking them out, and they get akumatized without resistance in order to force her to tell them her secret. After the fact, without so much as an on-screen apology from them, Marinette folds and talks about (some of) her problems. This also features another “whenever you’re ready” from Alix that may or may not be a simple joke given how the group laughs at it. Once all but Alya and Marinette are left in the room, Marinette has a mental breakdown and gives Alya her most precious secret: her identity as Ladybug.

Upon this episode airing, the fandom is upset at Marinette, not for telling her secret, but for not telling Chat Noir her secret instead of Alya, because Chat deserved her secret. This is also after “Chat Blanc,” where Marinette is aware that “her love with Chat” and Chat knowing her identity nearly led to the end of the world, and it is later confirmed in “Sentibubbler” that Marinette has actual trauma over the moment, never made aware of the specific mistake Chat made (i.e: keeping his knowledge of her identity a secret) that caused the issue in the first place, thus leaving her with all of the blame as the timeline is scrubbed away and Adrien is left with no actual lesson, even from Bunnix who could’ve chided him for his priority on love over safety. Chat received no consequences for this (not remembering his time as an akuma) and was even rewarded for his erased-from-time decisions as Ladybug laid her head on his shoulder, happy to have him back after the nightmare she’d lived where everyone was dead because her partner prioritized dating her over telling her that he knew her identity, despite her repeated stressing that no one must know.

(”Glaciator” also follows this formula, forcing Ladybug to apologize first and then having her blush when Chat kisses her cheek after he’d put up a huff mid-battle, while Marinette is blamed both for Andre’s akumatization and not going to a date that she didn’t promise to go to.)

Cut to some time later, when “Crocoduel” airs. Marinette, believing that she only causes problems for Luka and that he would rather be away from his own birthday party than be around the girl who “broke his heart” and “got him akumatized twice” (the first time being Silencer, something that apparently she, Alya, and the show blame her for), asks Juleka in private to make sure Luka isn’t present at the party. She later apologizes for this, admitting that she was unreasonable in her request.

The fandom proceeds to go off on Marinette, stating that she is selfish and that Luka “deserves better.” This is in direct contrast to episodes that feature Marinette/Ladybug apparently slighting Adrien/Chat (according to the fandom), where rejection is not wished on the ship itself, but rather a desire that Marinette/Ladybug apologize to Adrien/Chat and repent for her sins so that he can be happy and they can get together.

Interestingly enough, complete radio silence is given on the friends who had forced Marinette to go to the event in the first place (and also had supposed “whenever you’re ready” development in “Gang of Secrets”), not consulting with Luka on the matter nor considering what either would want, and only asking for Juleka’s permission in what is essentially an afterthought (having made plans without her input first). This is made doubly “interesting” by the fact that the action of said friends is what leads to the supposed “end of Lukanette,” with them officially confirming becoming friends.

Finally, cut to the most recent episode (at the time of writing this), “Wishmaker.” In this episode, through two different instances of Second Chance, Luka discovers the identities of both Ladybug and Chat Noir, shocked and later saddened by both revelations. When asked by Ladybug, he makes the decision to not tell her that he knows anything, though the current reason for this is unknown.

The fandom, once again, goes up in arms. They are upset by Luka’s lie (to a hero who he now knows is extremely stressed about her future and needs little else to worry about) regardless of whatever the reason may or may not be revealed to be. This is a far cry from the “golden boy” Adrien Agreste, who has not only lied (whether by omission or otherwise) on multiple occasions (”Copycat,” “Miraculous New York,” and “Chat Blanc”), but when Ladybug’s identity was put into his hands (the hands of a permanent hero who has one of the two exact miraculouses wanted by Hawk Moth), he chose not to say anything so he could date her.

Neither had a magical charm to protect them while one of them had a rabbit hero to erase his actions as if that removes what he would’ve done if given the chance, while Ladybug is left with the guilt and trauma. Both were told that identities are precious, and one lies for reasons riddled with ambiguity while the other lies in order to date the person who has already rejected one side of himself. One is a “threat” to the endgame ship and is either sympathized with or criticized depending on what will make his own ship look worse (and whose likeability seems to coincide by how “threatening” he is and what importance he receives in comparison to his “competition”), while the other is part of the endgame ship and is treated accordingly by the show and fanbase, his actions defended and validated while the blame falls on the other side of his ship.

In the end, Marinette and Luka are dealt an equally bad hand, and both are dealing with consequences of Adrien’s actions. Adrien had gotten to peacefully date “Ladybug” in a removed timeline because he selfishly kept a secret (and, again, was ultimately rewarded for it), while Marinette suffered dating Luka because she selflessly kept a secret (leading to him being akuamtized and her to nearly have a mental breakdown). Luka, meanwhile, who has had a track record of being incredibly selfless and having a history of always keeping Marinette’s feelings/best interests in mind, now knows both Ladybug and Chat Noir’s identities, and the latter being because Chat Noir let himself get hit by the akuma’s powers in the first place.

Yet it’s Luka who gets heat, and Marinette who gets heat, while Adrien isn’t even so much as on the back burner.

Isn’t history fun?

[mobscene-london]

BASIC INFORMATION:

NAME: Ayaz Ateş. AGE: 37. PLACE OF BIRTH: London, United Kingdom. AFFILIATION: The Rutherford Family. OCCUPATION: Lieutenant. FACE CLAIM: Serkan Çayoğlu. AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.

BIOGRAPHY:

(Warning: This is so obnoxiously long, and writing it was a logistical nightmare. Apologies for what you’re about to read. Don’t turn an NPC into a playable character and then play them before you write the bio. Lesson learned...)

This was never the life he’d wanted for himself. Not even with those he’d left behind.

But bitterness had a way of changing you irreparably.

People underestimated that.

Sometimes he wondered how different things might’ve been if they’d stayed in Haringey. The thoughts were void of the longing one might expect, but they plagued him all the same. Ayaz never really missed the place, and he sure didn’t miss those he’d once considered family, but that was because family didn’t treat people the way they’d treated his father. The man had dedicated his life to furthering the interests of the Turkish gang. They’d come before everything but his only son.

Until they just hadn’t deserved it anymore.

Demir and Doğulu had always seen things differently. The two had been friends back in Türkiye—long before they’d decided to move to London—and that meant Ayaz’s father often found himself on the outside of the trio they’d formed. Whilst Behçet was a proud man, however, he wasn’t an egotistical one. So long as his contributions to their three-way leadership felt worthy, he was content. But as each year passed, they pushed their comparatively traditional and conservative brother further out of the fold. Doğulu was the leader, Demir was his second, and Ateş was the fucking spare. They kept important information from him, and acted without consultation in spite of the fact they’d agreed to make decisions together. It was as if he’d pledged his life to people who had decided him obsolete. Embarrassed him by unashamedly parading it to the rest of the gang…

Ayaz isn’t sure why his otherwise patient father finally snapped—and is neither brave nor stupid enough to ask—but when the Rutherfords came knocking, Behçet answered.

Unlike his little sister, he was old enough to be aware of what was happening. Losing his friends, the people he cared about, the home he grew up in… Ayaz loved his father, and would never second guess the wisest man he’d ever known, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting. They were viewed as traitors by people who had once adored them.

Ayaz was so ashamed of the new reputation that followed his family, his teenage years were a miserable and lonely blur. Whilst he vehemently refused to associate with the Rutherford family—maybe foolishly hoping that one day, the Turks would take him back—he didn’t socialise with anybody else, either. He made no friends at his new private school; a placement gained courtesy of Rutherford influence, no doubt. Out of fear of retribution, he refused to leave the house for anything other than school or prayer. He talked less, even at home, and lost the very nature that’d always made the people of Haringey fall in love with him.

The one thing that’d always saved him from the brink of insanity throughout the hardship, however, was the relationship he shared with his mother. There was nobody in his life he adored more. On the days he was so miserable he couldn’t even bring himself to eat, she’d take her son to the kitchen and cook with him. Though he was an academic first and foremost, it’d sparked something in an otherwise empty teenager that would prove difficult to extinguish. To look at him now, one would never imagine that his passion in life was cooking, but Huriye had honed in on the thing she could see made her son happy, and gently cultivated it into something he could be proud of. Ayaz hadn’t realised that he’d needed that, but she sure had.

Eventually heading to university had been everything that he’d needed it to be, and that was a real chance to start over. For the first time since his family had been expelled from Haringey, he finally felt he had people in his life who had no idea about the things he’d spent years punishing himself for. Ayaz had pursued business and management with the intention of one day starting his own restaurant, and was finding his footing as something other than a traitor’s son. He’d made friends, unknowingly met the woman he would marry, and gained back some of the good nature he had lost over the years. There was so much to be grateful for, he could scarcely believe the turnaround.

Until halfway through his final year, he got the call that changed everything.

More so than leaving Haringey ever had…

In hindsight, he’s surprised it took them so long to retaliate. The Turks were as bitter as they were proud. Maybe they’d just been waiting for the right time to strike out at his father. Saving the only chance he’d allow them for when he least expected it… The drive-by shooting right outside his family home had seen three bullets hit Behçet, and still fail to put him down.

It’d only taken one to strike Ayaz’s mother, though. One bullet to injure her gravely enough to tease death, and paralyse her for the rest of her life.

Family would always come first for him, and this time was no exception.

Getting leave to be with her was easy, but it’d quickly become obvious that he couldn’t go back to school. Not only was his father finding caring for his paraplegic wife a struggle, but for the first time since Behçet had chosen the Rutherfords, his son was livid with those they’d left behind. Anger had never been something he’d struggled with. To see his mother hurting, though—a woman who was undeniably the kindest soul anyone who’d met her knew—stoked something in him he hadn’t even known fucking existed. As each day passed, and especially on the rare ones her admirably brave face faltered, his bitterness grew.

Behçet’s betrayal had never been the reason his son had joined the Rutherfords.

The Turks had unknowingly created that monster themselves.

The regret at having avoided the British family for so long crept up on him quickly after that. They had helped his family immeasurably; including, most importantly, making sure that his mother had the best private healthcare money could buy. Material gains aside, however, Ayaz would take away so much more from them as the years passed. The friendship he cultivated with Lara. With Adriana, and Yiannis, and a whole host of others he would never have been lucky enough to meet otherwise, too. Most significantly of all, however, he’d once again met Medea; the same woman who’d brutally rejected him at a university mixer all those years ago.

Whilst it might’ve it earned him all the things he was grateful for, his connections also perpetually stoked his ire toward Haringey.

And when his sister abandoned their family for a gang she couldn’t even remember?

It peaked in ways reminiscent of the days he’d spent at his mother’s hospital bedside.

Ayaz and Medea had committed to moving to Porto Velho permanently before he’d heard the news. Honestly, he would’ve gone anywhere his wife asked him to, and when it finally seemed as though his parents were in a good place, he knew he’d have no need to feel guilty for putting an ocean between them, because they wanted nothing more than for him to be happy. But when Elif turned her back on them, Huriye’s mental state began to deteriorate rapidly. Suddenly, his life seemed to be slipping out of his control because of decisions that were not his own. How could he possibly leave his mother now? Like this? Taking her place at Lara’s side was not an offer Medea could refuse, and Ayaz knew that it gave her purpose she had been missing for so long. He couldn’t ask her to stay even though he wanted to. He couldn’t handle any more fucking guilt.

They’d both tried to make the distance work. But it just hadn’t.

In taking away Elif, they’d inadvertently taken the love of his life from him, too.

One more thing for which he would never forgive them.

The work he’d been doing for the Rutherfords had been just enough to get by at that point, but he sure jumped at any chance he could to head to Haringey when somebody needed to be taught a lesson. Life was anger and violence. Utterly meaningless beyond a search for vengeance, and ultimately, it left him about as miserable as he had been before he’d turned his life around. But he was in too deep, now. Didn’t know how to go back to normality after everything that’d happened. Everything he’d lost…

Redemption only came when Lara made London her new home, but years had passed, and Ayaz was not the same person they’d left behind. They could see as much. With her homecoming came the return of Medea, though, and that mattered. Not only was he given new purpose as a part of Lara’s security team—trust offered thanks to the devil on her shoulder, no doubt—but with her permanent return to the city, he had his wife back. It was blatant as soon as she was home that divorcing had been a hasty mistake, because the two had reconciled immediately. Ayaz hadn’t realised how badly he’d needed it. Her.

Just like that? It felt as though he was finding his way again.  

The stability the new arrangement offered had him flourishing. Not only did he marry Medea for the second time, but now they were settled in the city for good, the timing finally seemed right to start the family they’d often talked about. Medea had never been close with her own, where Ayaz’s had meant everything to him, and it gave them both very different reasons for wanting the same thing. They’d always been on the same page; even when it came to the little things. Maybe she didn’t seem the type to others, but he knew her. Could tell she’d been excited to plan this part of their future. So when she’d turned around barely two years later and told him she didn’t want children anymore, it’d broken his fucking heart.

And this time, it was her who left him.

For a while, he wondered if she’d had other reasons for wanting to break things off, and had used not wanting kids as the excuse because she knew it was a deal-breaker. Medea wasn’t just his wife. She was his best fucking friend. Nobody understood her like he did. But this time he was at a loss, and that hurt him almost as much as losing her.

Ayaz threw himself wholly into his work as a means of coping after that. Not that he really fooled anyone into believing he was coping… Lara’s security team was headed by Yiannis, but he’d proven to be an exceptional addition over the years he’d played a part. Maybe it was the growing part of him that realised how much he owed them. Their relationship had strengthened exponentially; enough that his divorce, and new closeness with the Rutherford, had sparked some rumours he certainly could’ve lived without. Ayaz respected her like he respected nobody else in her family. Trusted her implicitly in a way that would soon become mutual. He knew that wherever she headed in the future, he would be at her side, but he hadn’t expected that it would so quickly come as a promotion to lieutenant.

It’s not that he wasn’t flattered... Not only had he got the title remarkably early in his career, but he would officially be the first the future head of the Rutherford family would assign to the position. People liked to say it’d only been a prize for saving her life back in Launceston, but they both knew better. Understood that she saw something in him that perhaps, he didn’t even see in himself. But the new responsibilities came with a very real reminder. The Ayaz from Haringey might’ve died in that hospital, but there was still a part of him, no matter how small, that longed for something more than this. In being brought into a position of power, it seemed increasingly unlikely that he’d ever get to spend his life away from the gangs, just as he’d always intended…

The real question is: is his longing for a normal life stronger than his longing to punish Haringey?

Things can change overnight, and he knows that well…

But not right now, it isn’t.

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. Medea Barrett (ex-wife, twice rip) FAMILY: Behçet and Huriye Ateş (parents, unplayable), Elif Ateş (sister), Leyla Yılmaz (maternal cousin), Ceren Yılmaz (maternal cousin, deceased) CONNECTIONS:

Adriana Amaro: Good friend. Though they mightn’t seem the type to mesh well on paper, Adriana has an infuriating way of making anybody she sets her sights on adore her. Ayaz is no exception. Whilst she might drive him crazy a solid ninety per cent of the time, he wouldn’t be without her, now. Of all the friendships he’s made since joining her family, whilst she might be the most unexpected, she’s also one of the most treasured. Not that he’ll ever tell her that.

Nevra Erdoğan: Good friend. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but it’s of great comfort to him to have another Turk in the Rutherford ranks. Not only is he proud of her for turning her back on the piece of shit gang they left behind, but he’s proud of how much she’s achieved working for the family. Ayaz isn’t a hugely social person, and he doesn’t have many friends, but with her it’s easy. At this point, he’s pretty sure he’d go insane without her.

Hasan Demir: Enemy. Former friend. The two had been very close, once upon a time. When he’d been forced to flee Haringey, family aside, Hasan was the person Ayaz had missed the most. But times change, and so do people. Whilst he hates everybody who’s a part of the Turkish gang with a burning fucking passion, the sons of Demir and Doğulu top the list. Old friendships don’t mean mercy. 

Elif Ateş: Enemy. Sister? What sister? Ayaz doesn’t have one.

[bossthebicon]

Hi Axelle, according to you why did Sean beat up Yok like that in the challenge scene? For me the scene felt a little random and felt like Sean's development had been forgotten in that moment. It felt a bit too mean coming from him now.

hi anon! for me at first, that challenge scene did feel a little random, but after a second rewatch it became clear why it happened.

1) it already starts to build up sean & yok's inevitable fall out once it's revealed that dan killed sean's dad (yes, I don't wanna think about it, I love sean & yok as bffs :((( )

2) it clearly re-establishes how much sean hates the police & how it feels like a huge betrayal that yok brought one in their hiding spot without consulting him first, which he why he ultimately beats yok up this badly

3) & most importantly, it creates a clear parallel between this fight scene & the seanblack one. with yok, even though he clearly cares for him, sean doesn't hesitate to hurt him, and I believe he'd the same with every member of the gang. but with black, who he thinks is white, he can't even bring himself to try to get up, even less fight back. that's bc, now that they've shared anything, sean would be incapable of even attempting to hurt "black", but that's the exception. the first seanyok scene clearly establishes that sean COULD & WOULD normally fight back, but is literally incapable of doing so bc he loves white so much. and if that isn't love, I don't know what is :'(

xxx

[thecreaturecodex]

Thri-Kreen

Image by Brian Despain, © Wizards of the Coast. Accessed at the Monster Manual II Art Gallery here

[The thri-kreen was never meant to be a PC race. At least, not originally. They originally appeared in the AD&D Monster Manual II with 6 Hit Dice and a load of special abilities. In Dark Sun, thri-kreen player characters didn’t get all of these abilities all at once, but were partitioned out over the first six levels. The ones with racial HD were called “tohr-kreen”... which then got retconned when 6 HD thri- and tohr-kreen both existed separately later in 2nd edition. The tohr-kreen were forgotten for a long while. 3e made thri-kreen a race with 2 HD and used their level adjustment system. I certainly played a thri-kreen character that abused the heck out of the Multiweapon Fighting chain. 4e toned them down to be a bit more in tune with the player powers of the rest of their Dark Sun races, and 5e went back to the AD&D 1e model, where they are just monsters, not player characters at all.

So I had a lot of history to choose from. I wanted to make them PCs, but that required toning them down significantly from their 3e levels. I created feats that help them get more towards that value, but still not entirely. PFRPG is much stingier with multiple attacks than 3.x was, and a PC race with five attacks from the get-go is right out. A lot of their mechanical flavor has already been swiped by Pathfinder races (the kasatha got the deserts and four arms; the trox got the big bugginess and natural attacks), so I wanted to make sure they were differentiated. I consulted with my friend @bowelfly​ for what they thought were vital to the feel of a thri-kreen, as they are a connoisseur of bug people.]

Thri-kreen CR ½ CN Monstrous Humanoid (kreen) This humanoid mantis is a dusty yellow color. It has four arms, but two seem to be its primary ones. It wears little clothing and carries multiple strange weapons.

The thri-kreen are sometimes called “mantis warriors”, as this describes both their physical appearance and their cultural values. Thri-kreen are nomadic hunters, and combine keen loyalty with a fierce need for competition. Members of a clan would hardly consider betraying one another, but they jockey constantly for position, and fights to the death are not unheard of to obtain a leadership role from a leader considered past their prime. They are skilled and patient hunters, moving frequently to avoid depleting prey items or causing undue ecological stress. Thri-kreen mate for life, and the care of the young is shared between all members of the clan. They grow to adulthood quickly, being mature within 5 years of age, and are considered ancient if they live to the age of 35. Thri-kreen often decorate their chitin exoskeletons with etchings and paints, the latter only for special occasions.

Thri-kreen prefer to attack from ambush, using their ability to change color to hide and their remarkable leaping ability to spring to the attack. The weapons of a thri-kreen are among their only possessions, and are thus well cared for. The primary melee weapon used by thri-kreen is a two-headed, crescent-bladed polearm called a gythka (treat as an orc double axe). As ranged weapons they use oversized shuriken known as chatkcha (treat as a starknife). Unusually, armor is only worn by the boldest and most confident thri-kreen, as it interferes with their camouflage abilities.

Thri-kreen advance by character class. Most of them choose classes with a full base attack bonus, like fighter, ranger or brawler. Their spellcasters are typically psychics, especially with the lore or self-perfection disciplines. Those that cast divine spells are usually druids—they do not trust gods, which they cannot see or taste, as opposed to natural forces which they can.

Thri-kreen as Player Characters Thri-kreen do not have racial Hit Dice, and advance by character class. A thri-kreen character has the following attributes

+2 Dex, +2 Con, -2 Cha Thri-kreen are nimble and tough, but have alien minds and emotions. Monstrous Humanoid Thri-kreens are not subject to spells and effects that target humanoids only Medium Size A thri-kreen gains no benefits or penalties from its size Low-light vision +1 natural armor Normal Speed Bite A thri-kreen gains a bite attack as a primary natural weapon that deals 1d4 points of damage Chameleon Skin (Ex) A thri-kreen can change the color of its carapace to match its environment. It gains a +4 racial bonus to Stealth checks if it is wearing no armor and only light clothing. If wearing light armor, or clothing that covers the body, it gains a +2 racial bonus on Stealth checks. If wearing medium or heavy armor, it gains no bonus. Master Leaper (Ex) A thri-kreen gains a +4 racial bonus on Acrobatics checks made to jump. It takes no penalty to Acrobatics checks made to jump without taking a running start. If it does take a running start, it doubles the distance covered. Secondary Arms (Ex) The secondary arms of a thri-kreen cannot be used to wield weapons or shields, but can be used to draw or stow small objects as a swift action. They can be used to provide somatic components even if both hands are full. Weapon Familiarity (Ex) A thri-kreen treats starknives as a simple weapon, and treats orc double axes as a martial weapon. Languages Thri-kreen start play speaking Kreen. A thri-kreen with an Intelligence bonus may choose from the following languages: Common, Dwarf, Elven, Gnoll, Halfling, Sylvan.

Statistics for a sample thri-kreen character, and feats for thri-kreen characters, under the cut

Thri-kreen ranger 1           CR 1/2 XP 200 CN Medium monstrous humanoid (kreen) Init +3; Senses low-light vision, Perception +5 Defense AC 14, touch 13, flat-footed 11 (+3 Dex, +1 natural) hp 12 (1d10+2) Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +1 Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee double axe +3 (1d8+3/19-20), bite -2 (1d4+1) or double axe +1 (1d8+2/x3), double axe +1 (1d8+1/x3), bite -2 (1d4+1) or bite +3 (1d4+3) Ranged starknife +4 (1d6+2/x3) Special Attacks favored enemy (magical beasts +2) Statistics Str 15, Dex 16, Con 15, Int 10, Wis 12, Cha 6 Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 16 Feats Two-Weapon Fighting Skills Acrobatics +4 (+8 when jumping), Climb +6, Heal +5, Knowledge (nature) +4, Perception +5, Stealth +11, Survival +5 (+6 following tracks); Racial Modifiers +4 Acrobatics when jumping, +4 Stealth Languages Kreen SQ chameleon skin, mighty leap, track +1, secondary arms, weapon familiarity, wild empathy -1 Ecology Environment warm deserts and plains Organization solitary, pair, gang (3-6), patrol (7-12 plus 1 leader of 3rd level) or clan (13-40 plus 50% noncombatants, plus 1-3 leaders of 3rd-7th level) Treasure NPC gear (double axe, two starknives, other treasure)

Thri-kreen Feats A thri-kreen’s body and mind can develop in unexpected ways over the course of their lives, enhancing their natural abilities. Thri-kreen may choose from the following feats

Chitinous Claws (Combat Feat) Your fingers end in sharp claws instead of dull points. Prerequisites Improved Unarmed Strike, kreen subtype Benefit: Your unarmed strikes can deal bludgeoning, piercing or slashing damage, as you choose.

Effective Limbs (Combat Feat) You have trained your secondary limbs until they are as strong as ordinary arms Prerequisites Str 17+, base attack bonus +6, kreen subtype Benefit You may use your secondary limbs to wield weapons, hold shields and do anything else a limb can do.

Improved Chameleon Skin You have great control over your ability to change color Prerequisites Wis 13+, character level 3rd, kreen subtype Benefit Your racial bonus to Stealth checks when unarmored increases to +8. When wearing light armor or covering clothing, it decreases to +4.

Improved Venomous Bite (Combat Feat) You can produce paralytic enzymes at an incredible rate Prerequisites Con 15+, base attack +9, kreen subtype, Venomous Bite Benefit You may use the poison from your  Venomous Bite feat a number of times per day equal to your level + your Constitution modifier.

Tohr-Kreen Casting You can tap into the magic of the mantis nobles Prerequisites Intelligence 13+, character level 5th, kreen subtype Benefit You gain the following spell-like abilities. 3/day—mage hand; 1/day—blur, invisibility. You use your Hit Dice as your caster level, and your Intelligence modifier for concentration checks.

Venomous Bite (Combat Feat) You can produce paralytic enzymes in your saliva Prerequisites Con 13+, base attack +4, kreen subtype Benefits You may choose to inflict poison on a creature you hit with your bite attack a number of times per day equal to your Constitution modifier Kreen Poison; bite—injury; save 10 + ½ Hit Dice + Constitution modifier; duration 1/round for 2 rounds; effect 1d4 Dex damage; cure 1 save.

[hxneyandespressx]

since we’re alone, you can show me your heart

summary: what happens when derek gets a nightmare? the only one who can calm him down is his pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x derek morgan (moreid)

word count:  1.9k

content warnings: mentions of gun and shooting

a/n: set after criminal minds season 11 episode 11 entropy

☆。*。☆。

Spencer ran frantically around his dark and messy apartment, picking up the case files and Chinese takeout boxes that had piled up on his antique coffee table. Few peanut oil stains stuck onto the wooden top. The anxious man took the nearest napkin, hoping that it was clean, and tried his best to wipe off the oil stains. Seeing that they wouldn’t come off, Spencer exasperatedly dropped the napkin onto the table and rushed over to his kitchen, grabbing the necessary cleaning supplies. He got his bottle of white vinegar and water, a pair of yellow rubber gloves, and an old rag underneath the kitchen sink.

By the time Spencer was done, every room in his apartment was clean to his standard. Not a book out of place, no dust lingering in the air. Spencer felt both scared and excited about having his co-workers come over to his place. He never had them over until today. He felt scared if a game, like truth or dare, made him confess his true feelings about his boyfriend.

Derek and Spencer had worked with each other for a long time. As the years went by, experiencing the highs and lows of being FBI agents together, the two of them felt their hearts yearn for each other, but neither of them acted upon it. They were scared of the possibility of rejection, tarnishing their friendship. It was not until Derek decided to break the ice and asked out Spencer. The young man was delighted to have his crush ask him out. It was the one thing that went right in his life.

Three months in and either of them hasn’t said “I love you” yet. Either of them was scared to frighten off the other. Saying “I love you” was a big commitment. They were trying to take things slow, not to rush each other, even though they had known each other for a long time.

The gang was heading over to Spencer’s for a little sleepover to relax as they hadn’t received any new cases within the past 2 weeks. It was nice to have a break from all the traveling and dealing with unsubs; however, it does get boring doing paperwork and in-office consultations for hours.

Spencer’s phone pinged multiple times and a bunch of text notifications came.

Hotch: Sorry, can’t make it. I couldn’t find a babysitter for Jack and Jessica is busy at work tonight. Maybe next time.

Tara: going out on the town with the ladies!

Penelope: sorry spencer but jj tara and i are having a ladies night :(

JJ: sorry spence! perhaps next time!

Rossi: Sorry kid. Forgot to tell you that I’m driving up to Montauk to visit a buddy of mine.

Spencer sighed and felt defeated. Everyone bailed on him at the last minute. Everyone except for Derek. That was fine with Spencer, as this could be a date night for them. Just then, the doorbell rang, indicating someone had arrived. Having a small smile on his face, Spencer scurried to the front door and opened it. It revealed one handsome Derek Morgan, who was holding a large pizza in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

“I saw in the group chat that everyone else bailed on this.” Derek said.

“Yeah but this could be a date night for us.” Spencer smiled at his little proposition. Derek smiled, showing off his brilliant pearly whites, as he entered the apartment.

The couple spent their night-in watching movies, eating pizza, and Spencer going off tangents on his passions. Whenever Spencer starts to rant about one of his passions, Derek just stared at his little genius and smiled at how happy his boyfriend was. And that continued all night long, Derek listening to Spencer talk about 19th-century British literature, coupled with watching random movies of various genres.

Nearing 1 am, the couple laid on the couch, with Spencer in Derek’s arms. The tv was playing Julie & Julia in the background. Spencer was half asleep and noticed that Derek was sleeping already. He gently wiggled out of Derek’s arms and stood up from the couch, scratching his scalp and messing up his already messy curly hair.

“Hey. Let’s go to bed.” Spencer softly said, patting his boyfriend’s shoulder. Derek woke up, feeling groggy. Spencer led the way to his room, holding Derek’s hand. They both flopped onto the bed and Derek wrapped an arm around Spencer’s waist. They were used to sharing a room together, even a bed due to mistakes occurring at the hotels they stayed at when they were on cases. Sleep washed over them as the golden dust of the Sandman worked its magic.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Standing across from Derek were Spencer and Cat Adams. The hitwoman had a gun pointed at one scared Spencer Reid. Internally, Derek was screaming. On the outside, he kept his cool and calm composure.

“Morgan, get out.” Spencer demanded.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Derek said, his voice shaking a little.

“Hm… I guess we’re back where we started. You and me with a gun.” Cat said without a care in the world, keeping the gun aimed at Spencer.

“Reid, it’s time.”

“No.”

“We don’t have a choice. We have to do it,” Derek said. Spencer kept shaking his head no. “We found your father.” the unsub stood there in shock for a few seconds, before rage set inside of her.

“You’re lying. I don’t like men who lie. You men are all the same.” Cat said as she gauged the trigger on her gun. She shot Spencer in the head and without hesitation, Derek started to shoot at the unsub. Derek ran over to Spencer and held his dying love in his arms. He tried to keep him alive until the paramedics came. The last words Derek said was “I love you” before his boy wonder went limp.

Derek woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He heard himself breathing heavily and felt anxious from the nightmare he just had. The frightened man groggily rubbed his eyes to get rid of the Sandman’s dust. Leaning his back against the headboard, Derek stared at the wall across from him, concentrating his eyes on one spot. He hoped that this technique would help him fall back asleep. Alas, he was shaken up from the nightmare.

The dazed man anxiously searched for his phone, wondering how much time has passed. Fumbling through the grey sheets and trying not to wake up Spencer, Derek found his phone, turning on the touchscreen, the blue screen lit up brightly. 3:20 am. Derek took a deep breath and sighed, leaning his head back onto the headboard and looked over to see his baby-faced boyfriend fast asleep. A soft smile appeared on Derek’s face, reminding him of his reality: Spencer being his angel.

Feeling restless, Derek pushed the comforter off of himself and quietly got off of the bed. He opened the bedroom door and went to the bathroom that was down the hall. His hands turned on the faucet and cupped together to gather the running water. Derek splashed cold water onto his face, making him more alert and awake. His eyes caught the sight of his face in the mirror. Smile lines decorated his face, which contrasted the dark circles forming underneath his eyes. Derek sighed and made his way towards the kitchen.

Derek has come over to Spencer’s place many times before, so much so he knows the way around like the back of his hand. With ease, his muscular hand grabbed a tall glass, with an accompanying coaster, in one of the cabinets above. He filled the glass with water from the faucet below. Loud gulps could be heard as Derek drank the water, cool and fresh like he had found an oasis. Just as Derek gently placed the glass on the coaster, his ears caught the shuffling feet of a tired Spencer.

“Derek?” Spencer tiredly said. “What are you doing up?”

“Just needed some water, that is all.” Derek said his half truth-half lie. The young man shrugged and went towards the refrigerator.

Unknowingly, Derek started to tap his fingers against the dark grey laminate countertop. Spencer caught the sound with his ears and turned to face his boyfriend.

“Derek? Are you okay?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Because you’re tapping your fingers across the countertop.” Spencer pointed out. When the tired genius mentioned the action, Derek immediately stopped, his eyes glancing at Spencer.

“We’re profilers, Derek. You can’t hide anything from me.” Spencer said, feeling concerned for his best friend. The mousy-haired man felt like a hypocrite after saying that to Derek. During the many years he worked with the handsome man in front of him, Spencer developed a crush on him. At first, it was just a silly little infatuation, but as time passed, it changed to being a crush. The young man was able to hide it well. That was until Derek reciprocated his feelings. That same crush turned into Spencer dating Derek. In these past few months, Spencer wanted to tell his angel of a boyfriend that he loved him, but he was scared that Derek would run away from him, just like everyone else in his life.

“Ha– you’re right, pretty Ricky,” Derek said in defeat, hanging his head low. Spencer came up behind Derek slowly, hesitant to show some affection to his probably scared boyfriend. He mustered up his own fears and gave Derek a hug from behind, and felt his boyfriend relaxing in his arms. The couple stood in silence for some time, savoring the unspoken quietness between them.

“Remember when you had to go in as bait for Cat Adams?” Derek asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh– yeah. Why are you asking?” Spencer responded, not getting the hint where the conversation was going.

“Two weeks since that case, I had these nightmares. I thought I could get through with it, but I can’t. My nightmare was about that. I dreamt that you were shot by Cat.” Derek explained.

“Derek…” Spencer felt shocked while his heart was breaking. He felt like he had to do something. But all he could do was sit and listen to his boyfriend get everything off his chest.

"I wish this is a nightmare that I could just wake up from... but it feels all real... and I hate every second of it. I felt like I was going to lose you when it actually happened,” Derek’s voice cracked a bit as tears pricked his deep brown eyes. “And I don’t want this to repeat. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

“I won’t let it happen again,” Spencer quietly said, caresses Derek’s cheek. “We will make sure she stays in prison, alright?” Derek brought Spencer in for a long embrace. The mousy-haired man wrapped his arms around his athletic boyfriend’s waist as he placed his head in the crook of Derek’s neck. The soft warmth coming off of Derek comforted Spencer, clashing with her cold pale skin.

“I just uh…” Derek said tiredly.

“Yeah.” Spencer replied, smiling softly. He knew in his heart that Derek said “I love you” to him.

“You know?”

“I know.”

taglist: @homosexualyearning / @ssajelle / @iconicc / @sunlightgalaxy / @pumpkin-stars / @hotchgans / @pen3mily / @hotchsbabygirl / @gravelyhumerus / @morcias / @notsosmexy / @cherrychris​ / @hqtchner / @girlbossjareau / @pagetsimp / @a-writers-ramblings / @morceid

[ofhoneyandrosepetals]

Bright as Red [3]

Pairing: Yata Misaki x reader

Description: Reader is left on the streets in a severe situation, being found by Totsuka Tatara, who gets to himself the responsability to help and heal the girl in HOMRA’s headquarters. When she wakes up, she’s led by the wanting to seek for revenge, going after who’s hurt her.

Warnings: only swears.

Word count: 2,552.

As soon as Yata and Y/N entered the bar, Kusanagi’s eyes went directly to Y/N’s backpacks.

“I thought you took a walk,” he said, plain. “What’s all of this with you?”

Before Yata could start telling the truth, Y/N said upfront.

“As we were walking I had the idea of… go to my house. Take some clothes. See… what’s left.”

Kusanagi stared at Y/N, and she couldn’t tell what he could possibly be thinking.

“Shitty idea, I know. But it was stronger than me. I was lucky I had Yata-san by my side.”

Yata’s cheeks burned in deep red. Kusanagi took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“I assume nothing happened, right?” Both motioned negatively. “Just never do that again. At least not without consulting us. Something bad could’ve happened.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, Kusanagi-san,” Y/N apologized and bowed.

“Just get outta here,” Kusanagi dismissed both of them with a wave of his hand. “Yata-chan, show Y/N the room she can stay in. It’s the one at the end of the hallway. You know which.”

“Sure.”

That whole afternoon spent with Y/N wasn’t enough to make Yata feel less nervous at her presence. He was very much conscious of her walking behind him, following him into stairs and corridors.

“My own room, huh? That’s cool,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” he didn’t really know what to say. “Most of us were taken out of the streets, so we didn’t have a place to stay.”

“So you all live here together,” it wasn’t a question. “I only wonder how’s that.”

“What you mean?” Yata asked as he stopped at the right door, just in front of his own room. Kusanagi was fucking around, right? He could only be joking when he assigned the available room in front of Yata’s to Y/N. The boy was a pile of nerves at the single thought of her sleeping so close to him.

“It gotta be cool,” she shrugged.

“I guess it is. Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass. But it’s never boring.”

“Cool. I need distractions,” she said as she stared at her own feet.

“What are you going to do about… you know,” Yata pointed with his chin at her backpack while he opened the door.

 “I need a computer to take a look at them. Do you know where we could get one?”

They entered the room, Yata putting her backpack that he carried on the bed. She took a look at the room.

“We could ask if Akagi could borrow his. He’s pretty cool and won’t ask many questions.”

“Cool,” she sat on the bed with a deep sigh.

“Are you… are you okay?” Yata asked, worried. She nodded.

“It was a lot, you know?” Yata nodded once. “I can only wonder what kinda intel these hard drives have. Is that Akagi guy good with computers?”

“He is. A lot of guys here actually are.”

“Are you good too?”

“Oh, I know how to do some stuff, yeah,” Yata scratched the back of his head. “But these guys are better than me. I’m focused on other things, anyway.”

“I see. I’m not a pro myself, but I know my way around. I’m only asking in case I come across some difficulties.”

“Akagi could help you. He would… keep your secret.”

“I don’t want this to be a secret, but I’m also not ready to share it. I know it’s important for you guys to know who did this to me, and why, but… I don’t wanna say anything about the hard drives I found, at least not yet. If they contain any good intel, perfect. But if not… then I want this to be my thing.”

“It’s understandable,” some seconds of silence have passed before Yata could say anything else. “I’m gonna give you some space. And find Akagi. Cool?”

“Cool. Thanks, Yata-san.”

The boy blushed a little before he left the room, closing the door behind him, her little smile fresh on his memory.

Accompanied by Akagi, Yata knocked on her door three times. When nothing happened, he decided to announce it was only him, stuttering a little at the end.

“Come on in,” her soft voice said.

“I brought Akagi…” Yata cut himself off when he opened the door.

Y/N was lying on the bed, her head falling from the border, her hair touching the floor.

“You guys are upside down,” it was all she said. Yata frowned.

“No wonder,” Akagi said.

“I just needed to think, sorry. Help?” Y/N extended her hands, to no one in particular, though her eyes were at Yata. Akagi elbowed the boy so he could take Y/N’s hands.

“Yeah, sure,” Yata stuttered, cheeks turning slightly pink.

“So, what do you have for me?” She asked.

“The computer,” Akagi handed her a laptop, which she placed on the bed and, beneath a pillow, took the hard drive. “Wow, where’d you find these?”

“At my house. I think it could contain something about what happened to my parents or about who did it…” Y/N suddenly stopped talking as well as moving. “I think we should go somewhere public. What if I can access something and things just go sideways?”

“We could take the van,” Akagi suggested. “Work there.”

“Without Kusanagi-san knowing? He almost beat the two of us for just going to her house without saying a word, imagine what he’ll do now,” said Yata.

“I think I’ll tell him, then,” Y/N said. Yata locked his eyes on her.

“You don’t need to. We can work this out…”

“I know I don’t need to, but I already said I didn’t want this to be a secret. It’s just…”

“If it was nothing you wanted to keep it to yourself. Plus you didn’t want to create a whole thing out of it for nothing,” Yata completed. “I know, Y/N.”

Her heart skipped, for a second only, when she heard the boy with the skateboard say her name so softly.

“So… what do we do?” Akagi asked, feeling something in the air that didn’t include him.

“It’s up to you,” Yata said to Y/N as he looked at his own feet.

“I’ll tell the bartender.”

“He’ll look at ya sideways if you call him that,” Akagi joked. 

“Want company?” Yata offered.

Y/N hesitated and said after a minute, with a smile: “I’m good. Thanks, Yata-san.”

Kusanagi inhaled deeply when Y/N finished to tell him the whole story. He closed his eyes, and then she thought: here it comes. The Anger of the Bartender.

“I understand. It doesn’t mean it makes any better what you two did, but I understand your reasons. I guess there’s nothing to bitch about, huh? Nothing bad happened, although it could’ve happened,” Y/N bit her lips. “Is Akagi with you?”

“Now he is, he’s going to help me with the hard drives if I can’t do anything. I was actually wondering if we shouldn’t go somewhere public so nothing could be tracked, you know, just in case,” she shrugged.

Kusanagi clicked his tongue in some kind of annoyance, complaining about kids.

“You guys want the van, don’t you?”

“You got it right, bar guy!” Akagi showed up, thumbs up.

“Were you two creeping around?” Y/N asked.

“Nah, we just came downstairs. But I sure as hell was curious.”

“Yata-chan!” Kusanagi called. “You’re in charge. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Got it, boss.”

Yata took the keys and they headed for the van. “You’re the wheels, Akagi.”

“Sure. Just don’t start anything until the van stops.”

“Obviously.”

Akagi had turned on a quiet alley and helped Y/N prepare the computers. Yata got out of the van to keep an eye in case anyone approached them. The backdoors were open, and Y/N observed for some seconds the way Yata sat, his shoulders hunched, arms crossed on his chest, his legs wide open in the way only boys sit. His bat was at his side, as well as his skateboard.

“Which hard drive do we start first with?” Akagi asked, getting Y/N out of her haze.

“I don’t know. Maybe the one I got from my dad’s computer? It seems simple, I just wanted to check anyways.”

“Sure, it doesn’t hurt. Who knows what we might even find?”

And so they started working on the hard drives as Yata kept vigilance. Akagi offered to use the second computer to take a look on the second hard drive, maybe even get access in case it’s blocked. Y/N agreed in reluctance, telling him to warn her in case he comes across with anything.

She found her dad’s emails, but none of them looked suspicious.

“He’s talking about a cat, but we didn’t have any pets.”

“And you don’t find that suspicious? At all?”

“Do you think they were talking in code?”

“If your dad was talking about a cat you didn’t have, then you can bet your life that there’s something fishy in there,” Yata said, turning a little to face her.

“I have no idea what ‘the cat’ could possibly mean.”

“Money, documents, favors… it’s a long list,” Akagi said. “Here, this HD is blocked.”

“Think you can pass through?”

“I should be able to. Gimme a sec.”

Y/N was starting to head outside to be with Yata when Akagi started complaining.

“No, no, no no no! Damnit!” He complained out loud, hitting something with his fist.

“What is it?” Yata and Y/N asked at the same time.

“They blocked me. It's inaccessible. Here, Yata, come take a look at this. Do you see it?”

“Like, pixels and shit? Yeah, I do.”

Akagi clicked his tongue in annoyance. “No, you dummy. The signature. Here,” Akagi pointed somewhere on the screen. Yata frowned.

“WD-8? What’s up with them?”

“What is this 8 thing?” Y/N asked. “I’m not understanding anything.”

“They’re a street gang.”

“No Kings, though.”

“Why would my dad be involved with a street gang?”

“Well, at least we got a lead,” Akagi sighed. “We just don’t know their roles in it.”

“Try the other one,” Yata said in a demand. “The HD.”

“Will the lady do the honors?” Akagi looked at Y/N. She shrugged.

“I don’t know if I can make it work.”

“Just put it up to run, that’s enough.”

And so Y/N did it. “Do you think there’s no more access to the previous HD?” She asked, hopeful on a positive answer.

“No, not for now,” Akagi answered, already making his way through the last HD. They blocked me, and their blockage shows a signature. When these things happen, it mostly gives me a hard time. Though I don’t think that WD-8 will be that smart…”

“They could’ve hired some tech bastard,” Yata suggested.

“Manner your language. I’m a tech bastard,” Akagi said in a warning, yet mocking tone.

“Yes, you are. All I’m saying is that if the person was desperate, they would accept anything to work with them.”

“As it usually happens…” Akagi said, focused on his work. “With most street gangs,” he completed. “Here, I got it. This one was easy. It makes me wonder why your dad would have a marked WD-8 HD.”

“I was questioning the same thing myself,” Y/N said. “Maybe… he got it from them? I don’t know. What’s in this one?”

“Some documents. In code, of course, because I can’t get anything useful out of this. What about you?” Akagi asked Y/N, who only gestured negatively with her head, getting closer to see the archives.

“There’s a map with random points marked,” noted Yata.

“I’m sure they’re not random,” the girl whispered. “Damn, there’s nothing about cats in this document. Is that all? A bunch of written nonsense and a map?”

“Guess so. It didn’t lead me to anything else,” Akagi answered as Y/N clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Is there a way to get all of this printed? I want to take a look at this and try to make a sense out of it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

As Akagi printed the archives, Yata took a deep breath and headed out of the van. Y/N looked at him, noticing the way he scratched the back of his head, how his beanie would go up and down with the movement and how the boy didn’t get it back into place. She had the urge to get it right, but how weird would that look? Instead, she said that Akagi could keep the blocked HD if he wanted to work on it, which he did want to, and headed outside too.

“Frustrating shit, huh?” Yata said to her. She shrugged.

“Maybe. The little I got is better than nothing. Of course I knew I wouldn’t have all the answers given to me, free-handed. It’s good to have something to work on.”

Yata was staring at her with eyes she couldn’t read, which made her feel uneasy, switching her weight between her left and right foot. The boy was looking serious, and it bothered her that she had no idea what he was possibly thinking.

“I’m a little hungry. You down for some ramen?”

The sudden ask of the boy with the skateboard and the baseball bat made her blink, astonished. “Ramen?” She asked.

“Yeah. Ramen. You know?” And then Yata mimicked the gesture of eating ramen. Of course he was making fun of her.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Ramen. Ramen’s a good idea,” she gave in with a faint smile.

“Great. Yo, Akagi. We’re going for ramen. Wanna tag along?” Yata asked as he got only his head into the van.

“Nah, I’m cool. I’m gonna finish up here, take the van back and leave these stuff at Y/N’s room.”

“Akagi said he’s going to leave the junk in your room.”

“They’re not junk,” Y/N responded gently. “And I heard it. Thanks.”

Y/N always felt that Yata was a little nervous about her - of course, she wasn’t stupid. So the way he asked if she wanted to go and eat ramen with him got her off her own mental balance. She enjoyed the boy’s company - sometimes he was funny, sometimes he was hot-headed, sometimes he was shy -, but she felt good having him around, at her side. It wasn’t that she felt the need to be protected, but she definitely felt safe - safer.

She tried to stop paying so much attention to Yata and all his details, but somehow it was stronger than her.

“What are you looking at?” He asked, plain and midway of the ramen to his mouth. The scene would be hilarious if the question didn’t make her stutter.

“Nothing,” she said. What excuse could she possibly give for such an act? I was just wondering why I can’t get my eyes off you. “I guess I just wanted to say thank you, for doing all of this for me. For being with me.”

“It’s what we do. We’re family now,” Yata quickly went to stare his own bowl of ramen. Was he blushing? “But I want as much as you to find out what happened, find out who did what they did to you. It’s unforgivable. I wanna give ‘em hell.”

“That makes the two of us,” Y/N smiled. “Race back to Homra?”

“You bet,” Yata’s smirk gave her butterflies in her stomach, which she tried to ignore as she finished her ramen.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA MEAN GIRLS AU

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the film) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, bribery, immoral deals, bullying, homophobia, outing, transphobia, violence, abortion, teen pregnancy, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy, this will be fine for you.)

(Regina) Five is the king of this school, and he has no plans to give up that position. He needs it to protect his people, as few and far between as they are, and himself, if he’s honest - he’s a trans and ace-aro kid in platonic love with the health class mannequin who he calls Dolores. Ruling with fear is basically all he can do. While he’s mean, you’ll soon realize that everything he says is more of a blunt observation that will improve your life if you just heed his advice. He doesn’t respect almost anybody - not the jocks, theatre geeks, nerds, cheerleaders, band kids - no one. However, if he does respect you, you have his trust and protection. And as a thirteen-year-old genius who only takes advice from always-slightly-drunk art teacher Agnes, his protection is pretty damn valuable: the last person who tried to hurt one of his people will never walk again. Leonard Peabody - he assaulted Vanya, and he paid. Five beat him to the point of hospitalization without getting a single speck of blood or bruise on himself, and Leonard’s the one who walked away in handcuffs. Do not fuck with any of Five’s people, or you have to fuck with Five. And you do not want to fuck with Five.

(Gretchen) Vanya is quiet and subdued, to the point where people question how she’s a part of the school’s most popular trio. If you talk to her for long enough though, it becomes clear: she knows any and everybody’s secrets. She writes for the school paper, and is known to write the stories her subjects don’t want anyone else to find out about. Like Diego, who she outed as bisexual last year to throw people off the trail of her own secret relationship with Sissy, earning her an ex-girlfriend and an ex-friend. She’s been trying to win Diego’s forgiveness ever since, but he won’t talk to her, returning every single one of her letters and gifts. (He’s blocked her number and all of her socials, which she only created to talk to him anyway.) She doesn’t know why Five keeps her around - Klaus loves to gossip, but Five never seems to want any of her secrets. She’s pleasantly surprised to find out that he apparently actually enjoys her company. (What?)

(Karen) Klaus is a fucking mess. He plays the dumb blonde (well, brunette) despite being a genius in his own right, even if he’s not at Five’s level. (To be fair, he’s pretty sure no one is.) He’s a drag queen on the weekends, a hangover from his time in the mafia gang, which he joined with his boyfriend Dave for six months after running away from home. Dave died in a gunfight, and Klaus has been fucked up (well, more than usual) ever since. Anorexia, PTSD, anxiety, depression, self-harm, suicidal ideation, the works. But as lonely as he is, addicted to a fuckton of hard drugs and liquors to cope, he’s still an alluring, aloof, and bubbly popular girl, wearing pink skirts and glittery heels and leather corset crop tops to school every day. No matter how much his father Reginald beats him for it, he keeps being himself, because he’s brave and because even if Reginald hates him, someone far more important loves him… Diego. Diego, who Klaus has kissed under a million stars and in the lollipop shop down the road and on top of a cafeteria table. Diego, who Klaus has chased through the rain and into the street without rest or hesitation. Diego, whose words and promises and scribbles are immortalized on Klaus’ skin for all to see. Diego, who Klaus will love no matter how much bigotry they encounter or dickwads they’re beat up by or miles they put between them. Diego, Klaus’ ex-boyfriend.

(Cady) Allison is the new girl, and she has plans for the advantage being underestimated has brought her. She challenges Five on her first day there, earning his respect, and joins his group at the urgings of Klaus and Vanya, who like her company. A fashion queen, she acts as though she’s unfazed by any and everything, but nobody knows her true heartbreak - she still writes letters to a girl back home. Allison was expelled from her Christian private school for falling in love with a girl named Natalie, who she kissed in janitors’ closets and who she beat up racist and homophobic blondes for. She has no tolerance for bullies, and yet becomes one under Five’s guidance - until she upends his reign as queen bee and signs her death warrant. (Though she later finds out he was more angry at her for stealing Klaus and Vanya’s affection than his popularity.) Now her only hope for happiness in her final days is Ray, the Shakespeare-quoting nerd in her English class… or Luther, the quiet dork in the Star Trek t-shirts in her math class. Fuck, she misses Natalie.

(Aaron) Luther is the posterboard for toxic masculinity. He’s on the football team but hates it, preferring his math tutoring and fantasy books to tackling drills. His bisexuality is his deepest secret - he once slept with Diego when they were drunk at a party after a football game, and he can’t get it out of his head. He keeps thinking about what might happen if somebody found out - would he be shunned like Diego? Trapped like Vanya? Plastic like Klaus? He doesn’t know. All he can do is continue to be kind and hope Allison loves him enough to love every part of him, beyond his good lucks and British accent and fucking Ray. So Luther stands up to Five, and pays the price. He compliments Klaus on his skirts, and pays the price. (Diego seems to simultaneously love and hate him for it, it’s confusing.) He holds the door open for Ben, and pays the price. He’s big enough to be scary, kind enough to be overlooked - but after that incident with Vanya, everyone looks at him like he’s a monster to be locked up. And soon enough, “star student” Luther, “teacher’s pet” Luther, “completely under the principal’s thumb and completely friendless and completely terrified of the world around him” Luther might just break under all that pressure.

(Janis) Diego is the school’s resident outcast and rebel punk - he wears skirts and fishnets and whatever the fuck he wants because if Klaus taught him anything when they were dating it was that gender is a construct and he looks hot in leather. They broke up when Diego was outed and Klaus chose to stay quiet when people started shunning Diego for it, but despite it all, Diego still loves him. He misses when they used to paint their nails together, because he has to paint his own now. They used to stare up at the stars together and fall asleep in the grass, curled up in each other, on the nights that Klaus would run away in terror from his dad and Diego would breathe with him and let him press his hand against his heart until Klaus’ panic died down. His heart still flutters when he sees Klaus smile around a lollipop… but he won’t take him back. He won’t. He just can’t forgive him. So instead, he talks to his mom about everything. He plays soccer with his sister Eudora. He paints shit while smoking weed with his best friend Lila. He thinks of Luther being scared of him and laughs. You know, he was almost in Allison’s position freshman year - Five loved him, and so did Klaus and Vanya, but then Vanya outed him to the whole school for no reason like a day before he and Klaus were going to come out together. And now they’re all estranged, and Diego has the strangest feeling that he’s lost his family, even though his mom is the only real family he’s ever known. But maybe he’s wrong. Because Klaus keeps sending him “anonymous” letters, leaving them on the porch and spilling secrets Diego never even would’ve imagined him having. But forgiveness is still a question - that is, until one day Diego gets a letter in a different handwriting: Five’s, telling him to man the fuck up and love Klaus before he kills himself trying to tear the stars down for Diego’s own personal pleasure, and suddenly, Diego is crying on his porch in the rain, missing a slender, sassy skeleton in his arms and a pink, bruised but unbroken heart in his chest.

(Damien) Ben is everyone’s favorite, and the kindest person in the world. He used to be Klaus’ best friend, but that ended when Ben got into an accident (there was a bus involved, that’s all you need to know) that landed him in a wheelchair and Klaus couldn’t deal with the mental pain it caused him. They still stare at each other longingly from across the cafeteria, but never say a word to each other, not even in class. But beyond Klaus, Ben has never had any friends, though he has a million aquaintances: he’s the only student in the school that everyone loves and respects. Five holds the door for him, though Ben can tell without having to ask that Five would rather nobody know that. He hangs out with Diego because he knows Diego’s lonely, even if he never wants to admit it. He advises Allison not to let anyone control her, telling her he knows Natalie from summer camp and that the deaf girl still loves her and reads every single one of her letters. He gives Vanya his lunch when she skips to cry in the gym after Diego yells at her, even though a part of him might think she deserves it sometimes. He plays sports with Luther after school and offers him an ear and some jokes about his problems, and a few touchdowns when he’s feeling good. He acts as Ray’s student consultant, because he knows how hard Ray works to treat him like an equal. He tutors Eudora in basically everything, but cuts study sessions short to play video games when he can tell she’s too stressed to think. He’s ace and pan and proud about it; he runs the school’s GSA; he defends Diego and uses the right pronouns for Lila when they’re alone without Lila ever having to him he’s trans. He bugs Reginald’s office in one of their many meetings and records enough conversations to get him fired when he tries to expel Five. And finally, karma rewards him - Klaus shows up at his house with a box of brownies he baked himself, all covered in smiley faces, and shoves them into Ben’s hands, shaking his head when Ben assumes they’re for Diego. I miss you, Klaus tells him, and Ben tugs him down into a kiss, pulling away with a stammered apology. I’m sorry, he blushes, and Klaus beams, leaping into his lap and hugging him closer than ever, the two of them queerplatonic partners from then on, forever linked by their fingers in the hallway. Happy. Finally.

Lila is the shy artsy kid who carries around one of those leather brown satchels that looks threatening but is really just code for “I think I’m too cool for a backpack so I stuff all my incorrect homework and favorite comic books into this sack of knockoff pig skin instead”. He’s covered in paint most of the time, and wears Alice in Wonderland combat boots and Sharpie-doodle-covered jeans and big black hoodies and soft grey beanies; he’s trans and hacked off his own hair until an undercut with choppy slash bangs and there’s pink streaks in them, of course, to match the bubblegum he’s always chewing. His nails are bitten and black, and his skin is decorated with tattoos that are almost exclusively Bo Burnham quotes, with the exception of Diego’s name right over his heart. (Diego has Lila’s name over his too - and Klaus’ and Eudora’s, though he’d never tell them that.) He gives his skirts to Klaus and gets along well enough with Five, them both being trans and all, and everyone else knows him as that kid who’ll spread rumors and steal things for bribes. It’s not like he can get in more trouble than he’s already in - he lives with his bigoted and abusive bitch of a mom. But Diego is his best friend - the one he shoots and stabs things with, the one whose ex-boyfriend he talks to because Diego will never admit to himself that he misses Klaus like he would his own lungs if they were torn from his chest, the one whose sister he’s in love with. Wait. Fuck. Oops.

Eudora is Diego’s sister, and the captain of the soccer team. She wears her red jersey with the white numbers to school every day, and is covered in tattoos of magical creatures, because she believes in all of them. She wishes she was a werewolf, and has dressed up as one every year for Halloween since she was ten. (And she’s let anyone dressed a werewolf give her a hickey just in case that turned her. It’s good to have all your bases covered.) She has a broken down pick-up truck named Travis-Trevor-Thomas-literally-any-other-T-name that she loves beyond belief, and drives Diego to and from school in it, though he grumbles about it every day. She eats lunch with him even though he insists he’s fine eating alone and wants her to go away, because she knows he’s lying, and she hangs around the GSA with him sometimes too. She’s lab partners with her brother’s “secret” ex-boyfriend, and is concerned by how quiet he is - she’s seen enough documetaries to know that quiet never means anything good. But unfortunately, she has her own academic drama to deal with - Hazel and Cha-Cha hate her for helping Klaus, and she hates them right back, leading to failing grades in both English and history no matter how brilliant her work is. Mostly, though, Eudora tries to get to know Lila - the pretty, angry, sarcastic emo boy she shares half her classes with, and flirts with every day despite how he ignores her. (ONLY because Lila still smiles and laughs every time she flirts with him, and Eudora knows from Diego that Lila thinks Eudora only flirts with him because it’s some sort of game of “if you get the guy who’s hard to get you win the hundred dollar bet” deal. Otherwise she would’ve backed off immediately because not doing so would be harassment.) Eventually, though, Eudora runs off-field in the middle of a soccer game and over to the stands to ask Lila to prom. Finally, she gets a yes - and, most importantly, a real smile, curled against her own mouth like a Cupid’s bow of promise.

Sissy is Vanya’s ex-girlfriend, and Fuckwad Carl’s current girlfriend. She hooked up with him after breaking up with Vanya, too drunk to even speak, and now her belly’s ballooning and her parents are gonna kick her out unless she marries him like a good Christian woman. And she really didn’t expect herself to tell them to fuck off for this one, but apparently lesbianism makes you do crazy things - so here she is, standing on Ray’s porch in the pouring rain and hoping for the best. She’s depressed and shows that by reading the Bronte sisters; Klaus opens the door for her and brings her notes with doodles all over them which makes her cry; she misses Vanya but hates her for what she did to Diego. And yet Vanya’s there when she goes to the abortion clinic, smiling and joking and holding her hand like always. One day she’ll have a baby and she and Vanya will raise it right, but fuck - that baby sure as hell won’t be Carl’s. (Because fuck that guy.)

Ray is a humanitarian, so, naturally, he’s also the student council president. Five has never mistreated him, because everyone loves and respects Ray, even his critics. He nurtures Allison’s intelligence and encourages Vanya’s musical habits. He tutors Klaus in basically every subject but never talks down to him because he knows the kid’s a genius, just a bit spacey from all the drugs (and the ADHD, let’s be honest). He helps bring Luther out of his shell and takes Lila out shopping for boy clothes, all of which he pays for himself. He’s not scared or offended by Diego’s sarcasm or intensity, instead greeting him every day in class with a new dad joke. He treats Ben to intelligent conversation like an equal and doesn’t let Five be so harsh he’ll regret it later, though he still lets him say what he means and be himself. Everybody knows he’ll be the real President one day - even if for now he wears pajamas to school every day because, in his words, “Clothes are just too much fuckin’ work, man.” (There’s a possibility he may have still been high from hanging out with Klaus that day.)

The Handler is the evil physics teacher. (I don’t know why I said evil clearly all science teachers are evil.) (Yes this is coming from a place of aggression but hey at least I recognize that.) (Plus he deserves it. So fuck you.) (*sticks tongue out*) (Don’t you see how mature I am?) (I’m sorry I’m sorry back to your regularly scheduled programming -) She’s Lila’s mom, and continually and constantly misgenders him (and Five!) in class, not even because she hates trans people, just because she hates him (and Five!). Five always challenges her dictatorial rule, refusing to participate in solidarity with Klaus when she forces Klaus to sit out for wearing skirts. She keeps trying to flunk Ray too, the little bitch, but he just keeps doing so well that she can’t even come up with a falsely plausible reason to fail him! She’s been bribing Hazel and Cha-Cha to flunk certain students for years, unaware that Lila has been stealing from the Handler’s own purse to double those prices for those students to ace their classes. Everybody hates her, and for good reason. I hope she gets fired. (Shut up and let me project onto fictional characters, assholes.)

Reginald is the evil principal and Klaus’ abusive dad. He sends Klaus to school every day in a boys’ “uniform”, which Klaus has to change out of in the bathroom every day with borrowed clothes from Allison. (Anything he owns lives at her house; they have an agreement.) Once Klaus forgot to wash off his nail polish before Reginald came home and he broke all of Klaus’ fingers one by one. (Agnes wants to beat him into dust with a rolling pin.) Klaus stays at Diego’s house a lot, though Klaus refuses to come after they break up even though Diego makes it clear that his door will always be open. Five, therefore, is super protective of Klaus - every time he comes over, he’s super respectful when Klaus is in the room and then verbally rips Reginald to shreds as soon as he’s gone. He once stayed over for an impromptu sleepover when he noticed that Klaus was terrified-ly coming up with more and more ridiculous excuses for Five to stay and not leave him alone with Reginald, and as soon as Klaus was asleep, tiptoed around the house to set up bugs and cameras he got from Ben. He gives all of the evidence to Eudora to deliver to the police, who arrest Reginald and leave him to rot in a cement cell for the rest of his sorry fucking life while Klaus goes on to live Happily Ever After because fuck you and your stupid as shit traditionalism and inhumane experiments you lying scheming fuckwad of a psychopathic monster toad.

Hazel is the exhausted English teacher. His secret? He hates every book he teaches. Also he’s been taking bribes from the Handler and Lila because teachers don’t get paid enough in our society. Also his wife Agnes of twenty years divorced him a year ago for the whole bribery situation and he’s been sleeping in his car and using the school’s facilities to appear fine. Yeah, Hazel’s a mess. ANYWAY - Five is the only one who seems to know what’s going on, and Hazel would like to keep it that way. He knows Klaus is a genius with words but doesn’t know how to tell him that, and he knows Diego’s favorite book is Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen and has agreed to take that secret to his grave. (What, it’s a good book!) His class is the only place Diego and Klaus dare to interact, and he’s noticed - they often pair up for assignments and take to the floor or beanbags in the corner, often cuddling up and giggling over whatever book or assignment they’ve been sent off to read or do. Hazel also has another hopeless couple he teaches, Lila and Eudora - eventually Hazel starts leaving Lila’s sappy poems about Eudora on Eudora’s desk when she comes in for her own class (separate from Lila’s) because there is no other way those two idiots are getting together, let’s be honest. There’s just too much communication. Mostly Hazel misses his own wife, Agnes - but he’s been out of luck since he cashed it in with the science department, hot cocoa whore that he is.

Cha-Cha is the history teacher, and she has all the sass and dry sarcasm required for that job. She will beat a bitch up for telling her she can’t teach critical race theory, and plays Drunk History and Overly Sarcastic Productions in her class basically every day. She doesn’t believe in tests because if she did she’d have to grade them, and she likes animated kids’ movies and TV shows, especially Paw Patrol and Sofia the First. (Yes, obviously she’s single. She’s also ace-aro, so who the fuck cares.) She takes the Handler and Lila’s bribes because she runs an underground wrestling ring and would like to continue feeding her pitbulls gourmet food. The only kid she’s truly on edge with is Five, who often challenges her in debates - she can’t decide if she’s impressed or enraged about it. Whatever. School’s out, bitches.

Agnes is the art teacher who knows everything about everybody. All of her art is of donuts. (Of course.) She’s a damn good cook, especially of pizza - and donuts. (Naturally.) She always has munchkins available for her students - and donuts! (She always saves the chocolate glazed and jelly ones for Five and Klaus.) She likes to rap explicit beats in her car and play her music so loud it shakes the ground and you can hear it from miles away. (Obnoxious.) So she doesn’t restrict her kids’ projects because that’s not what art is about. (And because it would make her a hypocrite, obviously.) Sure, she divorced Hazel, but hey - she’s living her best life, and eventually he’ll come to his senses and come crawling back to her at three a.m. to badly lipsync a Justin Bieber song about missing her, and she’ll leap out the window into his giant hairy arms and kiss him on his ginormous teddy bear face. Because Agnes, at heart, is a hippy. (And that’s love, bitch.)

Grace is Diego and Eudora’s (and everybody’s!) mom. She goes out for drinks with Agnes on the weekends and to clubs with Pogo every Friday (the librarian/unofficial therapist who acts as her mouthpiece when Diego does something stupid and won’t listen to her advice, the moron). She’s kind to everyone, but takes no one’s bullshit: you hurt her kids, you die. Important Notice: Everybody Is Her Kid. So be kind to everyone, dickwads. Well - except Reginald. And the Handler. Both of whom she bitchslaps for mistreating her precious babies. She then takes in Klaus because Diego loves him, and Ben because Klaus loves him, and Lila because both Diego ad Eudora love him. The only reason she didn’t take in Sissy was because Ray already had her taken care of. She’s a literal angel sent from heaven and we should all be worshipping her like the goddess she is I’m sorry I don’t know when this became Grace Appreciation Day™ but hey I’m here for it and I have no regrets.

[gumnut-logic]

When the World Goes Boom (Part Six)

This chapter is huge and was a challenge to write. The fic itself is now over 17,000 words. So much for a quick fic for Alan’s birthday. I give up.

Spoilers & Warnings: Spoilers for season three, angst, hurt/comfort, brothers and family, 5875 words

Many thanks to @scribbles97​​​ and @i-am-chidorixblossom​​​ for putting up with my crazy and reading this at random moments.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

There was nothing said between Jeff and his mother on the trip back to the house. Sally was of two minds. The first was to let it all play out, let Jeff trip over the brilliance of his boys and teach him the hard way that they knew what they were doing.

Not that she thought he didn’t trust them, it was more an unfamiliarity of how the family functioned in an emergency situation. This was the first time since his return that any of the boys had received a serious injury. It certainly wasn’t the first time for the family in his absence. Certain things had been put in place, certain habits came to the fore as the family retreated into itself.

Which led her to option number two - to sit him down, run interference between him and his middle son before they could blow each other’s heads off. Because that was what was likely to happen. Jeff was a lot like his eldest in temperament and John never responded well to Scott in confrontation.

So, her second option seemed the valid course.

Except Jeff refused to pick up the conversation.

Damn stubborn Tracy. The breed only came in that flavour and it could be as frustrating as hell.

As the car pulled into their driveway, she gave it one last attempt. A hand on his arm. “Jeff, hear him out.”

“I will.” Tight and dismissive.

She sighed internally and grabbed her bag, following him out of the car. The breeze was stronger than earlier and it caught her hair. “Jeff, they have been doing this a long time. They know what they are doing.”

He turned at that, one step on the front porch. “Mom, so do I.” And he turned back and entered the house.

She sighed. This was not going to end well.

Sure enough, words were already being exchanged as she entered the room.

John was frowning, his calm obviously unnerved by one of a handful of people capable of shaking it. “It was a legitimate move, Dad.”

“I’m not suggesting it wasn’t. My concern is that you did it without consultation.”

“I didn’t need to consult. It is my responsibility.”

“For my business.”

The room froze. Oh, Jeff. Her heart hurt.

“Dad, I...” Those turquoise eyes turned to her for the briefest of moments before flickering away. “The business is under the control of all of us, Dad. You know that.”

Her son swallowed, but kept his composure. “In that case then, why wasn’t I consulted?”

“Because that’s not how it works.” John straightened just a little. “Scott is the primary contact. He sees to day to day activities and calls on my assistance at need. Scott gets injured, the ultimate decision making falls to me. I made a decision to save future lives and I actioned it. I have no doubt Scott would support such a decision.”

Sally had no doubt either. Lemaire really was an idiot and it explained why they had so many rescues listing Oxy-Baker as the culprit.

Jeff swallowed visibly and Sally groaned internally. Jeff had come back from his isolation a changed man, but the core of his personality, the same aspect that had enabled him to survive so long alone, was still there. He wasn’t one to stand on the sidelines, particularly in a business he had built from the ground up.

“You created a media storm.”

“Lemaire created a media storm and Eos has it under control.”

“That control is limited and you know it. She can only delete so much before absences are noted and questions asked. You can’t jeopardise her or our operations for random gossip.”

“It is under control, Dad.”

“Then how did I find out about it?!” Great now his voice was rising.

John was still holding it together. “I know what I am doing. Lemaire cut his own throat with that broadcast. I knew he would do it and worked it into the strategy.”

“What strategy?”

“Dad-“

“Why am I never told anything? Why am I always on the outside?”

“Dad-“

But there was no stopping him. Sally’s eyes widened as her son flared like a sun gone nova.

He threw up his hands. “My own family! I, just...John, why do you shut me out?!”

John just stared. “Wha-?”

“Jeff.” Sally reached out and put a hand on her son’s arm.

He turned and stared at her, his eyes widening.

Sally opened her mouth.

Jeff’s phone rang.

The moment snapped. Sound returned to the room. Jeff’s harsh breathing. John’s wide eyes.

Her own heart beating too fast.

The phone rang a moment longer before Jeff reached into his back pocket and yanked it out.

His voice harsh. “Jeff Tracy.”

Her son kept the phone on voice only.

“Hello, Val.” His glare at John proved this discussion was not over. “They are both on the mend. Alan still need further surgery, but Scott is getting there slowly.” His voice was tight. “You know the deal, dressing changes twice a day. Burns are the worst. Virgil is on it.” A pause and a frown. “Yes, I’m fine…John and my mother, at the house.” He sighed and lowered the phone, deploying it’s holoprojector. Val Casey appeared before them all.

She frowned up at Jeff. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Val, I’m fine.”

Her lips thinned as if she didn’t believe him. Sally was not surprised. Val could always read Jeff, almost as well as her sister. The two of them used to gang up on him.

Sally had often wondered if Val could have become something more than the boys’ aunt, but Jeff had never pursued and Val just fell deeper into her career.

No doubt, Val would pursue the topic of Jeff’s health later, but for the moment she resumed the reason for her call. “We have begun investigations into the explosion and I was hoping International Rescue would be willing to share your data on the incident.”

Jeff’s eyes flickered to John. “I had assumed you had already received it.”

John caught that gaze and held it. He shook his head just a little.

Jeff’s eyes widened.

Val was talking to someone out of projector range. “Foster says she has yet to receive anything. John?” Her dark eyes turned to her nephew.

“We’re still assessing the situation, Aunt Val.”

She stared at him a moment, her lips thinning. “Very well. I will want Foster to interview Scott, Alan and John at their earliest convenience.”

“That may be some time, Val. My two boys were seriously injured.”

“I know that Jeff. I don’t like it any more than you, but there was a major explosion in orbit. We now have projectiles intruding on shipping lanes and orbital contamination. It is a mess up there. The World Council is demanding an investigation. This could affect the operation of International Rescue.”

Jeff frowned. “How?”

“There are those who claim your rescue organisation is at fault.”

“What?! Two of my sons nearly lost their lives.”

“Then prove they weren’t responsible by sharing the information.”

Jeff’s eyes hit John’s. “I will see to it.”

Val held his eyes a moment longer. “I look forward to it. GDF Command out.” The phone flicked off before anyone could comment.

“Why haven’t we cooperated with the GDF?” The words were sharp and shot at her middle grandson.

“It has become our policy to not trust the GDF.” John’s expression was resigned.

“Why?”

“The Hood has a spy in their ranks, possibly more than one.”

“The Hood is in jail.”

“It’s not the first time and it doesn’t mean much, Dad, trust me.”

Jeff’s lips thinned.

John straightened and appeared to steel himself.

Oh, for the love of-!

“Jeff.” Again, she reached out and touched his arm.

Again, it was thrown off.

Jeff opened his mouth.

John’s comms went off. “John, you there?” Gordon.

The room froze.

The astronaut stared at his father a moment longer before turning slightly and thumbing his collar. “Yes, Gordon?”

“Hey, bro, I think we have a situation.”

“What?”

“You okay?” Gordon’s tone became concerned and she could hear her fishy grandson’s frown over the commline.

“I’m fine. Details, Gordon?”

“Alan’s remembered something. We don’t think the explosion was an accident.”

As her heart sank, Sally stared as John’s turquoise hardened into obsidian.

-o-o-o-

Okay, if Virgil was honest, pushing Scott out into the sunshine wasn’t entirely just for his brother’s benefit. He closed his eyes, holding the bed still a moment as the sun hit his face.

“Oh, god, who turned the sun up?”

Shit.

Virgil grabbed his sunglasses from his pocket and handed them to his brother. They were snapped up and shoved on Scott’s face ever so fast. The wraparounds blocked out everything and the concussed man sighed in relief.

“Sorry.” So much for being the medical expert in the family.

“‘S okay.” Scott lay back and literally melted into the bed. “Feels good.”

Virgil relaxed a little and resumed pushing the bed out towards the gardens.

“Not too far, Virgil.”

His shoulders dropped. “Kayo, I just need a tree and a view. Scott needs it.”

The security officer held his gaze.

“It’s only Lemaire. The man’s an idiot.”

Her stare continued.

“Please, Kay.” Puppy dog eyes maybe?

He held it for a few seconds longer and was satisfied to see her shoulders finally drop. “Fine.” She stalked into the fore, hand signals thrown at both Jeremy and Iz and the three security officers bracketed the bed and the two men.

Oh, he was so going to pay for this.

But, yeah, totally worth it.

Kayo led them out into the park and under a tree as requested. Virgil pulled the hoverbed to a halt with a sigh. The view was magnificent.

Jeremy stepped closer and took up a position near the Tracy brothers, Iz melted into the gardens and Kayo glared at Virgil one more time before talking into her comms quietly and running a perimeter.

So going to pay for this.

“She’s going to turn your life into hell, Virg.”

“Eh, she loves me. She won’t kill me.” He walked around the bed and perched on it beside his brother. “How are you?”

The breeze caressed his cheeks and it was wonderful.

“Better to be outside of that room.”

Virgil caught the unspoken terror in his brother’s voice. “Alan is going to be fine.”

“I know.”

Virgil reached out and touched his brother’s arm. “He will be. I promise.”

Scott turned to look at him at that, tired eyes staring up at him with a fragile hope Virgil had never quite seen in them before. Scott was always the powerhouse of inspiration in their family. The leader, the mover, the focus. To see him so tentative was alarming.

It was the concussion.

It had to be the concussion.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil startled. “What?”

His brother was peering at him. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Virgil, seriously, are you okay?” Scott was frowning in concern.

Great.

“I’m fine.”

“You have bags under your eyes bigger than Grandma’s handbag.”

Virgil rolled those eyes. “Exaggeration. I just haven’t had my coffee this morning.”

Scott stared at him in alarm. “You were up that early and haven’t had coffee?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I had coffee over breakfast. Just haven’t had my morning refill.”

That stare continued. Ever so great. Now Scott was worried about him. “I’m fine. You’re the sick one.” He turned away so his brother couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“Did you sleep?”

“I slept.” A couple of hours at least.

“For goodness sake, Virg-“

He placed a hand on his brother’s arm. “I’m fine. Quit worrying.”

“It’s my job.”

“You’re on sick leave. Give it up.”

“Look after yourself.”

“I am. Just drop it, okay. I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Exactly.” But it was said under his brother’s breath and Virgil doubted he was supposed to hear it. He ignored it anyway and turned away to focus on being outside and free from the confines of the hospital.

Scott appeared to give up, though he did manage to shoot Virgil a concerned look every now and again.

Virgil ignored him and just sat back against the headboard with his brother and relaxed.

He was on the verge of dozing off when his comms squawked at him. As he focussed enough to answer, Kayo swept out of the shrubbery and joined them.

Virgil’s heart sank even before he heard Gordon’s voice.

The explosion wasn’t an accident.

-o-o-o-

The room was ever so much more depressing and confined with so many people in it.

Their father and grandmother returned to the hospital, this time bringing John with them. Virgil noticed from the moment his middle brother walked through the door that something was up between him and Dad.

When Aunt Val and her second walked in behind him, Virgil realised exactly what.

Their Aunt immediately moved to both Scott and Alan, enquiring after their health. Her second, Captain Foster appeared both fearful and uncomfortable and had every right to both emotions.

Virgil glanced at Scott and found the expected concerned expression on his face.

But his brother shook himself and the commander made an appearance, his expression calming while his blue eyes missed not a thing. Virgil both welcomed it as a sign of his recovery and with a little bit of dread. Scott had never been entirely convinced Foster was innocent in the Hood’s theft of her identity. Virgil was of two minds himself, but everything IR could access…and that was a lot with Eos up their sleeve along with John…just proved her innocence more.

So, they treated her as innocent.

“Aunt Val, what brings you here?” Scott lay back against his pillow, his eyes tracking the people in the room.

Alan, in contrast was beginning to look tired.

When Scott and Virgil returned to the room with Kayo, the astronaut had been energetic, fuelled by his own discovery and worry. The words had literally fallen from his mouth in report to Scott. Virgil had shoved the beds together and the eldest brother had reached out to gently touch and reassure the youngest. It had been an important moment for them. Virgil hadn’t missed the tremble in his big brother’s voice or his inability to let his brother go.

Alan hadn’t minded in the slightest.

Virgil himself stood to one side listening as both Eos and Alan filled gaps in the picture. Scott’s expression hardened with each word.

Understandable.

Virgil wasn’t impressed in the slightest that someone was responsible for nearly killing two of his brothers.

Kayo went ballistic.

More security was ordered and her voice was sharp over comms. Virgil had no doubt the hospital was now tighter than Fort Knox.

“Commander, I have a report that you don’t believe the orbital explosion was an accident.” The colonel’s voice was crisp and clear.

Scott’s eyes darted to his father.

Jeff straightened just a little his expression firming up.

That blue gaze darted to John and their middle brother’s posture parroted that of their father with just a touch of defiance. The flicker of comprehension in Scott’s eyes reflected Virgil’s assessment of the situation. There was definitely an argument on simmer in the room.

Scott pushed himself up in the bed and Virgil jumped in to help. He could understand not wanting to face this lying down.

Scott grabbed at his head and closed his eyes.

“Hey, take it slow.” Virgil caught his brother’s shoulders and shot a glare at his father. Goddamnit, if this set Scott back after all the progress today, John wasn’t the only one who was going to be in an argument with his father.

“I’m okay, Virg.”

Pillows were shoved in to support Scott and the commander sat up straight, not quite high enough to look Casey in the eye, but impressive enough.

Virgil stood beside him.

“Colonel, we have only just now discovered there may be a possibility that the explosion was not an accident.”

“I need details.”

Scott’s eye darted to Foster for the barest of fractions. “I would prefer to do my own investigation of this matter. I need further information.”

“This is GDF jurisdiction, Scott.”

His brother’s lips thinned. He knew their aunt was right, but trust had been eroded after so many failures on the GDF’s part.

“There are some discrepancies in the station’s records. We suspect they have been masking their intake of both precious metals and radioactive materials.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“That is what we need to find out.”

“Do you have proof?”

Scott turned to John and every eye in the room followed. The astronaut didn’t blink, his voice cool as he answered. “You will have our records shortly.”

“Thank you, John.”

John didn’t answer.

Virgil frowned.

Their father stepped forward. “Thank you, Val. Keep us in the loop?”

“Of course.”

Scott’s lips thinned further. “Colonel, I would appreciate this information being kept in confidence.”

It was Casey’s turn to straighten. “Of course, Commander.”

Scott dipped his head just slightly. “Thank you.”

There was a sudden silence in the room.

It was broken by a snore.

Virgil turned to find Alan flaked out in his bed, on his back, dead to the world. The medic flared. “I would appreciate it if my brothers were allowed to rest. It has been a long day and they are still recuperating. His glare landed on their father and the man met him eye to eye.

It was the Colonel who had the apology. “I’m sorry, Virgil, but this was important.”

“I’m aware of that, Aunt Val, but Alan was seriously injured. We came very close to losing him. So, you will need to excuse us if we are a little protective.” On the bed next to him, Scott flinched. Damn. Poor choice of words.

Virgil dropped a hand onto Scott’s forearm and squeezed gently without looking at his brother.

“I can respect that, but I will require Captain Foster to interview both Alan and Scott as part of this investigation as soon as possible.”

Virgil took a single step between his brothers and his aunt. “It will have to wait until at least tomorrow, Colonel. Both need more time.”

“You are not a doctor, Virgil.”

Of course, that set off his grandmother. “But I am, Val, and Virgil is correct. You are going to have to be patient.”

Alan snorted in his sleep. Gordon, sitting on the end of his little brother’s bed, lay a hand on Alan’s leg. There was a frown on the aquanaut’s face.

“I am trying to help you, Sal.”

“I know that, but you will have to wait. Our boys aren’t up to it yet.”

The colonel’s dark eyes turned to the eldest man in the room. “Jeff?”

Grey eyes darted from their grandmother to the sleeping Alan to the glaring blue staring from Scott’s bed.

A soft sigh. “My mother, as always, is correct, Val. We will have to wait.”

Val dipped her head in defeat. “Jeff, as soon as possible.”

“You have my word.”

With that the colonel looked to each of them, turned and left, taking Captain Foster with her.

As the door clicked closed, their father rounded on them. “What was that?”

Scott frowned. “What was what?”

“That was your aunt. Your mother’s sister. I would think you would treat her with a little more trust and respect.”

“Dad, that was Colonel Casey of the GDF. This is a professional relationship and we treat it as such. We have had difficulties with the GDF multiple times in the past. I can not afford to trust that organisation blindly. Aunt Val, yes, she means well, but she is not in control of every person in the Force. I will not trust them any more than I have to.”

“Why?”

Scott stared at his father a moment before turning to John. “Make sure Dad has the necessary mission reports as soon as possible.”

John’s FAB was very quiet.  

Their father returned Scott’s stare with equal wattage, his eyes grey stone. “I see we need to have an extended discussion.”

Scott dipped his head just slightly. “Yes, sir, we do.”

The ‘sir’ floated around the room like a harbinger. Scott hadn’t addressed his father like that in over nine years.

“Jeff, I think we should talk about this later. These boys need their rest.” As if to punctuate his grandmother’s request, Alan snorted and rolled over in his sleep. His soft whimper as he landed on his injuries had Gordon moving fast to gently prod him in the opposite direction.

Virgil winced, and realised he was still standing in defence of his eldest brother even though their Aunt had already left. A swallow and he stepped back to Scott’s side. He didn’t miss his grandmother eyeing him.

Grandma reached up and placed a hand on their father’s arm. “C’mon, Jefferson, you need rest.”

He turned to look at his mother. His shoulders sagged just a little.

Her hand travelled around his back and her touch became a one-armed hug. “You boys get some rest, too.” Blue eyes pinned both Scott and Virgil in particular.

Virgil let his head nod just once as Grandma steered her son out of the room. Their father must be really tired to allow himself to be herded like that.

But then this was Grandma.

Virgil sighed as the door closed behind them. Grabbing a plastic chair, he let himself drop into it beside Scott and for a moment just sprawled there.

“That could have gone a bit better.”

“You’re telling me.” Scott’s tone was as tired as Virgil felt. “Dad’s pissed.”

“Don’t blame him.” Gordon’s expression was sad.

It was Scott’s turn to sigh. “No…god, I’m tired.”

That perked up Virgil and, in a moment, he was standing again, fussing at his brother to lie down.

Scott glared at him, but surrendered without complaint, proof of exactly how much that little meeting had taken out of him.

“I’m sorry, Scott, but that’s not all of it.” John moved quietly closer to the bed; his expression just sad. “Dad feels we are shutting him out. That we are not including him in the decision-making process.”

That explained the tension on John’s face when he arrived.

Scott rubbed his face. “I…uh.” He let a breath out in a rush. “FAB.”

“I’ll speak to him tonight.” Virgil’s voice was rough and both Scott and John, along with Gordon in the background, turned to him.

“Virgil, are you okay?” John’s eyes were suddenly concerned.

Virgil cleared his throat and his voice came out more its usual depth. “I’m fine, why?”

His brothers’ frowns didn’t disappear, but Virgil pre-empted further discussion of his health by speaking further. “I’ll talk to him tonight. Hopefully he will have had a rest by then. We’re all tired. Tempers are guaranteed to be short.”

Scott grunted.

As if to parrot his big brother, Alan snorted again.

Gordon stifled a laugh.

Scott glared at him.

Virgil rolled his eyes and threw himself back into the chair.

Concerned turquoise eyes followed him, but Virgil ignored them.

God, he was tired. A blink. His coffee. He never got his damned coffee. Explained the tired.

He rubbed his face fit to erase it and lay back.

It could all wait a few minutes.

-o-o-o-

“Do you think he knows?”

“Of course, he knows. How could he possibly not?”

“He’s asleep. How could he know?”

“Because you never shut up about it.”

“Can it, you two, or you’ll wake him up!” The hissed whisper was closer and definitely Scott.

“I think that would be a good idea considering he is about to fall off that chair.” Gordon? Yes, Gordon.

Virgil shifted and realised he was not in a comfortable position. Not comfortable in the slightest.

He groaned as his body complained. Ow.

“Now, see that? You’ve done it. You just couldn’t shut up, could you?”

A gentle hand touched Virgil’s shoulder and he shifted again. Oh god, what had he done to himself.

“Hey, Virg, take it easy, you’re going to fall off the chair.”

Chair? Wha-? He forced his eyes open.

Just in time for whatever was under him to tip sideways.

The world tumbled into a mess of linoleum, orange and bruising hard surfaces.

Strong hands caught him though.

“Shit, Virg, you okay?”

The orange? The orange was Gordon. Virgil blinked attempting force clarity into his thoughts. His butt hurt and he had whacked a foot, but those strong arms of his little brother had caught all the important bits. A dazed stare up into eyes as brown as his own and his brain came mostly online.

“Ugh, Gordon? What the hell?”

“You fell off your chair.”

Virgil struggled to right himself and his brother helped him to sit up. He was on the floor. Scott was peering over the edge of his bed down at him, a worried frown on his face. “You okay, Virgil?”

He ran a hand over his face. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Thanks, Gords.”

“All part of the service.” As usual, Gordon’s tone was light, but Virgil didn’t miss the fact his brother hadn’t let him go yet. “You fell asleep. Did you know you snore like a frog?”

He turned to his brother. “What?”

“A genuine frog. I can even name the species. Mating call and all. I suggest you don’t fall asleep next to a pond. You may wake up with some interested, but somewhat slimy female admirers.”

Virgil stared at Gordon for a full second before giving up and shaking the man off so he could roll to his feet.

Ow, everything creaked. “How long?”

Scott’s eyes followed him as he staggered upright. “Maybe a couple of hours. You were tired.”

Still was. He rubbed his face again.

“You missed lunch.”

Huh? Food. His stomach groaned. “I’m good.”

“Bullshit, Virgil. Go home, you need food and a bed.”

He ran his hands through his hair. Ugh, sleep inertia. His brain was fog. He just needed a moment.

He grabbed his chair and righted it as his fish brother unfolded from the floor. His sore butt hit the plastic of the seat and he groaned. “I need coffee.”

Gordon snickered obviously ignoring the warning in those words.

Scott’s voice was firm. “Gordon, could you please get Virgil some coffee.”

That prompted a glare war between brothers that Virgil had no energy to umpire.

Blue must have won over brown like it usually did, because Gordon stomped off.

“You okay, Virg?” Alan’s voice came from somewhere beyond Scott.

Virgil grunted.

“Give him a minute…or sixty.” The grin in Scott’s voice was just offensive.

“Shut up.”

Gordon returned with what turned out to be a decent and wonderful and, oh god, coffee. So warm, so longed for. “Gordon, I love you.”

His brother snorted. “Figured, but I’m thinking you love the coffee more right now.”

“Mmm-hmm.” His eyes were closed and the smell. Ohhhh!

Someone was giggling but he didn’t care in the slightest.

Coffee.

It was a few reverential moments and some steaming liquid of the gods later before he surfaced enough to discover three pairs of eyes smirking at him.

Three.

“Where’s John?”

It was Scott who answered. “Lemaire threw another fit. He returned to the house to tackle it.”

“Another one? I thought John had the business secured.”

Scott sighed. “He does as far as I can see. Lemaire is just hounding the press.” Virgil narrowed his gaze at his eldest brother, suspicious. Scott rolled his eyes. “And before you ask, yes, I did fall asleep, but your snoring woke me up.”

“And me.” But Alan was grinning, obviously feeling better for his nap. “What frog was that, Gordo?”

“An African bullfrog. A big fat nasty one, just woke up from hibernation. Kinda applicable really, considering.” Gordon’s grin was fit to split his face in half.

Virgil ignored him and guzzled the dregs of his coffee.

Perhaps Scott was right. Maybe he should go home if he was disturbing his brothers.

A hand touched his arm. Scott’s voice was quiet and sincere. “Virg, go home. You’re wearing yourself out. Alan and I are fine. We will be fine. Go home.”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

The door to the room opened and a nurse entered. “Mr Alan Tracy, it is time for your dressings change.”

Virgil blinked. It was that late? Where the hell had the day gone?

He pushed himself to his feet. He could hang for another half hour or so.

Scott groaned softly as Virgil moved his bed out of the way so they could undock Alan’s bed. “Virg, go home.”

“I will. After Alan’s had his dressings changed.”

“Virg-“

“I’m good. Gordon, hang with Scott and sing him a lullaby. Here hold my coffee cup.” He shoved the empty mug into his gaping brother’s hand and helped push Alan’s bed out of the room.

Alan’s giggle made it worth it.

-o-o-o-

The giggle lasted until they entered the procedure room and then nothing could deny the seriousness of the situation. They left Jez and Brie at the door to give them privacy.

As Alan’s bed was docked and the protective sheets laid beside him, Virgil moved to take up a position at the head of the bed and gently rested his hand in Alan’s hair. Out of the way, but still in contact with his little brother.

During previous procedures, Virgil had moved to the other side of the bed, but this time he wanted a better view.

Maybe down the track, he would be able to help his brother through his recovery.

The nurse left for a moment and Alan looked up, his hair soft against the palm of Virgil’s hand. “Thanks for this. I know it sucks to watch, but thanks for being here, bro.”

A small smile. “Anytime, Allie.”

He could have let Gordon come in his stead, but Gordon was as much his little brother as Alan, and while they were all adults…well, almost, his fingers brushed blond locks involuntarily…every instinct still called to protect them.

If he was honest, Virgil would have to admit that his family was everything to him.

He would do anything for his brothers.

A small sigh. He must be tired. He was getting maudlin.

The nurse returned, bustling in with a hypodermic. She smiled at Alan and he forced a grin. “Got me the good drugs again?”

“Certainly, Mr Tracy. Only the best for our best patients.” Her smile was genuine and friendly.

She prodded his brother’s IV line and injected the medication. “Let’s give that a few moments to do its thing.”

Alan grinned. “Bring on the psychedelic butterflies.”

The nurse only smiled and finished up. “It will be over before you know it, Mr Tracy.”

Virgil hoped so.

The next few moments were quiet as Alan settled.

Virgil found himself gently stroking his brother’s hair.

He wasn’t sure if it was for Alan or himself. Maybe it was for both of them.

Eventually, the door opened and the same nurse from this morning entered pushing a small tray of supplies.

Alan grinned. “Joe, you’ve come back for a second round.”

The young man smiled in return. “Wouldn’t miss it. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, the good stuff is doing its stuff. Can barely feel a thing.”

The nurse stepped up to the side of the bed, giving Virgil the barest of nods. “That’s what we like to hear. Have to make sure we have a happy customer.”

“Give me a little more and I’ll be more than happy.”

The nurse snorted as he lined up his tools. “Kelly says you’ve had just the right amount, Alan. Wouldn’t want you to go loopy on us.”

“Sounds like fun. Hey, Virg, is it fun?”

Virgil blinked. “Is what fun?”

“Being high as a kite. Joe, you should see what stuff like this does to my brother.”

“Alan…”

The nurse looked up at Virgil and a small smile spread across his face. “Really? What does it do?”

Virgil groaned. “Alan-“

“He gets funny. One time he tried to walk through a wall. Another time, he proposed to Kayo, his sister.” Alan giggled. So much for not being as high as a kite.

“Alan, please.”

“It’s okay, Virg. We still love you.”

Blue eyes were looking up at him and smiling.

God, Allie.

The nurse pulled out a hypodermic needle. “Now I’m just going to put in a local anaesthetic and we’ll get started.” He began uncovering Alan’s arm.

Virgil frowned. “Why does he need a local? He has a nerve depressant in place.”

The nurse blinked at him. “This is part of the procedure.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve attended every session with Alan. He has not needed a local anaesthetic before. You didn’t give him one this morning.”

The nurse turned towards him. “He was in pain this morning. I felt this would help.” The man turned back to Alan and pulled the covers off his arm.

“Which local are you using?”

The man didn’t stop what he was doing. “Why?”

“Virg, what’s wrong?” Concerned blue eyes stared up at him from the bed.

“Just asking some questions, Allie.” He turned back to Joe. “Can you please stop a moment and explain what you are doing?”

Joe straightened and turned to Virgil, resignation on his face. “I guess I’ll have to.”

A blur of movement, a sharp pain in his neck, heat and shock as he was flung away from the bed. His head hit something hard and the world sparkled in a rain of stars.

“Virgil!”

Alan!

What the f-?!

“You had to be a smart ass, didn’t you. Couldn’t make this easy. No…bloody Tracys!”

Virgil’s brain derailed for a second. The man beside the bed doubled as he reloaded the syringe. “Two Tracys instead of one, can’t hurt, s’pose.”

“Al-lan, r-run!” He fumbled for his collar. “J..J..ez.” Where was his voice? He lurched a step. “Alan!”

His brother was responding, ever so slowly, dragging himself off the bed, his sedated body ever so heavy.

Heavy…Virgil listed to one side and struggled to right himself.

Joe had the hypodermic charged again. He turned to Alan.

No!

Virgil threw himself forward and crashed into that doubling figure.

They went down with a resounding crash. Surgical tools went flying.

“Goddamnit! What does it take to shut you up?!”

Virgil wrestled with the man, but he was uncoordinated and numb. Joe slapped him across the face with an empty medical tray and everything vanished in pain for too many moments.

But he had a grip on an arm and he wasn’t going to let go.

The man struggled, fighting him, and Virgil again tried his collar comms his thick fingers fumbling. “Jez…Jeremy, please!” Not Allie, please not Allie, don’t hurt Allie.

White hot pain flared in his arm.

Not Allie.

Again, sharp, hot and burning.

Again. He whimpered.

“Get off me, you annoying piece of sh-“

Something stabbed into him and stayed there just as the room exploded with noise.

Not Allie.

“Scott, help…please…”

Everything came down to that fist and what it held.

Not Allie.

Not Allie.

Not.

Alli-

-o-o-o-

End Part Six

[capricornus-rex]

Inseparable Dyad (5)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: When Cal follows his instincts to revisit Zeffo, you sense a great disturbance and urgency in the Force. A trap was set by bounty hunters who wanted either—or both—of your heads, but no one knows who has put the price.

Notes: Oh wow, finally finished the last part! This was fun to write, especially the 4th part. But now it’s time for the close. Glad you guys liked it and thanks for the support! Stay tuned for more fics, I have a lot in mind ;)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | Masterlist

5 of 5

The Mantis is still traversing through hyperspace. It feels like it has been minutes since the ship outran the fighter ships and got away from the outpost. Merrin comes in holding two cups in each of her hands, a wisp of steam wafted out of the cups’ rims.

“It’s tea, it will help you relax,”

“Thank you, Merrin,”

She handed over each cup to you and Cal. You wrap your hands around the cup, savoring the heat spreading across your hands and then took a sip; you felt more of the heat within this time. Cal exhaled a sigh of relief with every sip, it seems that the tea is helping with releasing the tension from his muscles.

“Greez? Cere?” you called.

“Yeah?” Greez responded from the driver’s seat.

You stood up and sat on the vacant fourth seat in the cockpit. Cal stood by and leaned against the doorway frame.

“Any idea who that was?”

You heard Greez’s voice strain, “We just rescued you from the crime boss, Mux Odra,”

“Yeah, he introduced himself,” you cut in, hoping for a more elaborate answer. “Does he know either of you?”

“Well, he and I go way back, in a certain point of view,” Greez replied.

“Oh? And what’s that ‘certain point of view’?”

Greez struggled to explain in a way that would make you understand where he’s coming from in this situation. Cere then took the reins with the exposition.

“Mux Odra’s syndicate touches on illegal trafficking. Slave trade, auctions, exotic pet trades to name some.”

“But he tends to keep the ones he likes—they either go to his arena or his chambers.” Greez added.

“How did his men know that we were in Zeffo? The ambush looked like they were expecting us.” Cal joined in.

“They must’ve seen the Mantis on the landing pad,” Cere presumed. “They were able to jam our communication in-planet and off; that is why I couldn’t contact you from the ship.”

“I don’t expect you to know him before all of this,”

Cere leaned back to her seat, a slow, long sigh exited her nostrils, she avoided your eyes for a second and then turned them to Greez. You angled your head to Greez who had his back turned to you. There was silence in the ship. The captain felt all eyes on him, when he swiveled his chair, he found himself cornered by everyone’s stares—including Merrin way at the back, arms crossed over her chest and her hip leaning against the holotable’s edge. 

Greez sighed loudly, it was more of a loud groan rather. He knew he owed everybody an apology and explanation, at least except Cere.

“Like I said, he and I go way back. Before this stint with Cere, a few years ago, I crossed him on a game of Sabacc. I won fair and square on that round, he just didn’t like to be on the losing side. Just a disclaimer though: I’m not into gambling anymore! Frankly, I don’t understand why he decided to take it out on you guys after so long. Moreover, why would he know that I’m travelling with two Jedi?”

“How many gang leaders have you pissed off, Greez?” You blurt.

But Greez’s last sentence clicked. Cal beat you to asking the question.

“Is he popular with the other crime bosses?”

“Mux Odra? Oh sure, the other bosses like him, no doubt. He’s the life of the party!”

You picked up where Cal was getting at, you connected the dots so far in this conversation about Odra.

“Crime bosses like Sorc Tormo?” you cut in.

“Yeah…” Greez’s nervous voice fades out.

You and Cal exchanged glances. Without speaking to each other, you came to a conclusion, it’s as if both of you have connected the dots and completed the whole picture. Whatever you two were thinking together may be a theory or a speculation, but it is the most likely one.

Cere sensed the growing tension between you and Cal, she sensed what you were thinking.

“Cal, [y/n], what are you two getting at?”

“You guys rescued me from Sorc Tormo, it doesn’t take a genius to know that I’m travelling with you, Greez.”

“You’re implying that Mux Odra knows about you two because of Sorc,” Cere realized.

“Yes, and looking back, I think Sorc Tormo was still a little sour on my escape. It’s not a stretch to presume that he gave word to Mux Odra.”

“But how did he find us in Zeffo?”

“Sorc Tormo has all of his goons scattered to any world we’ve been to so far, that’s why the goons saw the Mantis land and blocked our communication. They must have sent word while we were exploring, that is how the ambush was staged. I had a feeling about it earlier, before we got captured.”

Cere called that a fair point. The possibility of Mux Odra sending out goons the same way the Haxion Brood is doing is brought up, there was a short silence, thinking of the possible solutions to rectify it.

“Well, we’ve gotten rid of the Haxion Brood goons well so far, though it just means extra work if Odra decided to send his men out,” You point out.

“We can take ‘em, right, [y/n]?” Cal winked and you returned a smile.

Cere gave a reassuring smile at the two of you. As a recompense, Greez decided to chart the course to a safe place he knows. He reassured the crew that it’s totally fine and no one will come looking for you there. They won’t even know that Mux Odra and Sorc Tormo has made a joint bounty out of you and Cal.

You and Cal returned to the couch at the holotable, neither of you spoke for a few minutes but you sensed that he wanted to say something. The moment was awkward but, fortunately, short-lived.

“[y/n], back at the outpost,” Cal starts. “I was seeing images in my mind, but I had the feeling that it was coming from you—like, you were the one sending those thoughts to me, you were the ones seeing those images in your perspective. I saw it, [y/n]: the room, Mux Odra sitting down, and even his voice when speaking to you. That was all you, wasn’t it? I’m right, aren’t I?”

You processed what Cal said, you didn’t actually think it would work and have the images make it to Cal’s mind.

“Yes,” your voice was soft and low. “I think I did. When I was looking around, the thoughts started to run in my mind, and then you were the first person I thought of. I hoped maybe—just maybe—it would let you know that I wasn’t far from you. My instincts told me that it would work, turns out it did. The truth is: this is the first time I’ve done it.”

The truth surprised Cal indeed, so many thoughts ran in his mind but they mostly revolved on this Force ability that you have. It was just as rare as his Psychometry. Your Force ability allowed you to communicate with another Force-user or sensitive through your mind—regardless of distance—you are capable of sending them thoughts, sentences, or images to the other person’s mind. Given that you’ve had little experience with this, you needed undisturbed concentration to be able to send vivid messages to the receiver’s mind.

You confessed that when you first learned about this ability, you told your late master and asked you to demonstrate it; when she experienced and witnessed it she sensed feelings and somehow blurry images, unlike Cal who was able to wholly see images vividly as he sees you before him, feel sensations and emotions, and even hear voices that you hear in your point of view. Recalling your younger days, you experimented on your own ability—you showed it to your closest friends amongst the Padawans, one of whom was Cal. You once personally consulted Master Yoda about your ability, he theorized that perhaps only with an individual whom you have nurtured and sustained a true, strong bond in the Force—your ability will reveal its true lucidity.

This time, you consulted Cere to see if she knows anything to support Master Yoda’s theory. She joins you on the couch at the lounge.

“A dyad in the Force,” Cere inferred.

“A dyad…?” You softly mutter in confusion.

“It’s a connection between two Force-sensitive beings,” Cere raised her index fingers on both hands and joined them together. “Which makes them one with the Force. Many Jedi believe that it is a rare but powerful bond, just as powerful as the Force itself. What happened in the arena was the catalyst. Through your ability, [y/n], you and Cal could communicate more than just with thoughts and images; it can be developed and learned over time, of course. A dyad can work in many ways, yours is just one example,”

“Is that why we know what to do together without even speaking? It’s like, a feeling or thought and then it turns out right in the end,” Cal inquired.

“Yes,” Cere managed a small smile. “It’s exactly that. You two have a shared gift, a very rare one at that.”

Cere politely excused herself and returned to the cockpit.

There was silence after she left. You were processing everything that she just explained to you. You try to recall the past instances where the dyad was manifesting without either of you knowing. That morning in Bogano when you were fighting off the Oggdos is a possibility, the fight at the arena was the strongest evidence, and you remember that one time you were meditating, but got too deep into the trance but Cal’s voice was the one you heard and led your subconscious back to reality.

Suddenly, you felt Cal’s hand gently clutch your lap, you slightly flinch after being lost again in deep thought. His soulful eyes twinkled as you looked right into them. You take his hand on your lap, your fingers intertwined with one another, you beamed him a secretive smile and closed your eyes. He scooched closer so he can let your head rest on his shoulder, his free hand secured you on the front, embracing you; he could feel the rhythm of your breathing, the slow rise and fall of your shoulders as you breathed, his heartbeat was slow but loud, it pounded under your hand resting on his chest. Both of you drifted off to sleep as the faint sounds of your hearts and breathing lulled you in a comforting peace.

[waywardxqueen]

The Reason Is You: Chapter One

Post Provider. After another encounter with Mohra demons, Angel becomes human, but when Cordelia gets a vision of the Fang Gang dying in an upcoming battle he makes a deal with the PTB, who tells him that he must sacrifice a part of his future for him and his loved ones to keep his human memories. Rated M for language, smut, and violence. Eventual crossover with BTVS.

Set six months after Provider. Everyone can see how much Angel and Cordelia love each other, but the two still won't own up to their feelings for one another. When Angel has another encounter with a Mohra demon and becomes human again. When he realizes that he will be useless in an upcoming battle, he makes a deal with the Powers That Be that will prove to Cordelia how much he truly loves her. Eventual crossover with Buffy

Disclaimer: I don't own these amazing characters, if I did the show would have ended so much differently! No profit is being made off of this, it's for entertainment purposes only.

Reviews will make me very very happy!

The Reason Is You

Chapter One

"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless" Cordelia tried to sound cheerful, but she was exhausted from the previous night. It was nothing new these days, she felt like she hadn't stayed in her own apartment in months. The business was booming, which was a good thing, but balancing saving the world with visions from the PTB and helping raise a now crawling baby was exhausting; still, she wouldn't trade it for the world.

After she took down the potential client's information, she grabbed her coffee mug and went to get herself a refill. That's when she noticed them, the green-skinned man like demons who came crashing through the doors of the Hyperion Hotel.

"Angel! We've got company!" she yelled towards the back office, where Angel had just gotten Conner to take a nap. Wes was off consulting with an old friend about a prophecy he had recently translated, Gunn and Fred were out to lunch, leaving the vampire with a soul and the part demon seer alone. When Angel bolted from the office and saw the three demons, a look of shock instantly covered his usual brooding face."You have to destroy the jewel on their forehead," he said flatly, catching the sword that Cordelia had tossed his way. He'd encountered these demons before, but that was a day only he remembered. In seconds the demons were tried to get the advantage, all three coming after Angel. It was their mission, what they were hired for. Assassin demons, just another day at the office. Cordelia ran to grab another sword from the weapons cabinet but was stopped when one of Mohra demons threw her into the front counter, screaming in pain she kicked the demon hard enough that he stumbled backward while she jumped back to her feet, ignoring the pain from the gash on her head. Looking behind the counter she grabbed the first thing she could find, Wesley's newest prized possession, a priceless ax that had an inscription carved into it. Without hesitation she swung it around, causing it to slice through the demon's neck, taking its head completely off. When the green glowing blood sprayed everywhere, she gave Angel a disgusted glare before using all of her force to smash the red jewel on its forehead with the ax.

Quickly she ran over to where Angel was cornered by the other two, one which had already used its nails to cut through the vampire's shirt, which was now soaked in blood, Angel kicked that one away, sending it flying towards Cordelia and the blood-covered ax, the brunette seer then gave the demon the same treatment as she had given his friend, while Angel killed the other. Once the fight was over Cordelia rushed over to him, worried about the strange look on his face.

"Our blood mixed" was all he could say, Cordelia gave him a clueless glance as she helped him to the couch to patch him up, not worried about her own bleeding wound on the back of her head.

"If that's that worst that happened, I'm going to say get the hell over it.." she mumbled as she collapsed next to him. As if it were on cue, Gunn and Fred came through the door, instantly worried when they saw the three headless demons dead on the ground

"What the hell happened here?" Gunn asked, seeing his two slime-covered friends exhausted on the couch

"The same thing that happens at least once a week, nasty demons broke in and tried to kill us." The hazel-eyed woman glared, looking down at her ruined clothes, "and this shirt was new! God I don't get paid enough for this..." she grumbled, wincing in pain as Fred touched the back of her head to see where the blood was coming from.

"I'll get the first aid kit.." the petite girl spoke, looking at Angel who still had an awed kind of look on his face."How did you know how to kill them anyway?" Cordelia questioned, looking over at him.

"One almost killed me and Buffy the last time she was in town.." he admitted, looking over at the woman who had taken out two of the demons by herself. Her eyes widened as her mouth suddenly formed a perfect 'o' shape. After Cordelia had learned that he lied about sleeping with Darla, part of her terms to forgive him was that he had to confess everything he had lied to her about, including when twenty-four hours of her memory was wiped because of his last encounter with a Mohra demon. Now they both shared the same concerned looks.

"What aren't you telling us..?" Gunn was suspicious now as he saw the worried looks wash over his friends, "they're dead so it's done.."

"Whose first?" Fred looked between the two, only nodding as Angel pointed to Cordelia.

Neither one of the two answered, it wasn't Cordelia's place to tell, and Angel didn't know how to explain that as they sat there he was quickly becoming human. He could feel it already, the blood pumping through his veins as his heart slowly started to beat once again. Cordelia on the other hand was dealing with an entirely different range of emotions. Happiness for him, but selfish hurt for herself; she had no doubt that now that he was human he would run off to find Buffy, taking Conner away so that he could have the life he always wanted with the slayer he had been in love with for years. She didn't complain about the pain as Fred stitched up her gash, when it was done she stood up without saying a word, walking off to the office to check on Conner.

The eight-month-old was sleeping peacefully when she got there, he hadn't woken up at all during the fight. She tried to fight the tears that started to form when she saw the sleeping baby, but she lost the battle against herself. As the tears began to fall she let her fingers softly run through Conners's baby soft hair.

"I'm going to miss you more than you can possibly know little guy.." she whispered, being careful not to wake him. Wiping away stray tears she left the office, not looking at anyone as she mumbled something about going home to clean up. She was about to lose the two most important people in her life, and she had no idea how she'd be able to go on without them.

Hours passed, and after taking a shower, changing into clean clothes, Cordelia still didn't go back to the hotel. She couldn't take hearing all of the excitement over Angel being human, knowing that it was only a matter of time before he was off to Sunnydale. It would hurt too much; she couldn't handle hearing his plans. So instead she stayed curled up with a blanket on her couch, thinking about what her future would be like now. A seer without her champion, a surrogate mother without her child, a lonely twenty-one year old without her best friend and the man she was in love with.

She ignored the knock at the door, not wanting to face anyone just yet. Tears kept falling as she thought about everything that had happened in her life since running into Angel nearly four years ago. Everything they had been through together, the person who she had become because of him.

"Hey.." she heard a voice speak, using the blanket to dry off her tear-streaked face she looked up at him. Angel.

"I thought you'd be halfway to Sunnydale by now.." she mumbled, looking back down at her hands

"What? Why..?" he seemed to be genuinely confused by the idea when Cordelia gave him a 'why do you think' look, realization set in. "That's why you left.." he finally got it, sitting next to her he shook his head. He had to tell her the truth, she needed to know. "I'm not going anywhere," Angel promised, a soft smile forming on his lips as she looked over at him.

"Why? This is what you've been fighting for.. your redemption, becoming human.." a sniffle caused her to stop speaking for a second, "you have the chance to be with the woman you love, to give Conner a family.. why stay?" Angel couldn't believe what he was hearing, was she honestly that clueless?

"Conner already has a mother" he stated, it was now or never, taking a breath he nervously set his hand on her interlaced ones, watching as she slowly let herself look him in the eyes for the first time since he told her about the demon, "I do love Buffy," he stared, causing her to flinch, "but not in the way you think. She and I tried, but it didn't work out for a reason. The reason was you." Her eyebrows raised, and instantly she pushed his hand off of her.

"Me? You're blaming me for you and Buffy not working out? I didn't do anything!" she snapped, obviously not understanding what he meant. He couldn't help but grin, only Cordelia would snap at him when he was trying to explain that she was the reason, because he was in love with her.

"Yes, I'm blaming you.." he finally said, amusement in his voice as she glared, completely unaware of his feelings. "Because you made me realize that what Buffy and I had... as great as it was, it was nothing compared to what I could have. I could never have a family with her... I could never count on her to be there for me even after I made mistakes. She's not the girl that I want to spend my life with... that I want to be the mother of my son."

"Again. How the hell is that my fault?" she seemed truly offended as she interrupted him.

"Because you are that girl." He finally told her, "the way that you are with Conner, taking care of him as if he has always belonged to you. The way that you have never turned your back on me even when I deserved it, you're wrong, you did everything.. you showed me I could have a life that I never even dreamed of because I knew I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve you, I still don't... But I'm not going to miss my chance. I love you, how do you not know that already? I am completely in love with you Cordelia and if you think I would walk away from you, or take Conner away from the only mother he will ever know you really are crazy." It was out. He told her. He watched her carefully as her expression changed from anger to confusion, to something entirely different. Her eyes were filling up with tears again, but for something different now. She didn't say anything, she couldn't, no words could possibly explain her feelings

Cordelia looked at him in a way that she never had before, a smile appearing on her face for the first time since the fight. She slowly lifted her hand up to his face, softly letting her fingers glide against his skin, before finally letting her lips crash against his. What started out as a loving, sweet, and gentle kiss instantly turned needy. Their lips didn't part an inch as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap. Their tongues challenged each other's; moving together in perfect sync. Cordelia's hands moved down his chest, carefully unbuttoning the bottom button, moving up as quickly as she could before she grew impatiently and tore his shirt open, causing the remaining buttons to pop off and bounce across the hardwood floors. Angel pulled back for a second and looked at her lovingly, an amused grin appearing on her face.

"I'll buy you a new one" she promised before her lips attacked his once again, using her hands to free him of the rest of the fabric of the shirt. The slight coldness of her hands caused him to tremble a bit when her fingers traced along his now bare chest and down to his abs. Angel let his hands move underneath her tank top against her soft warm skin, all the way up her back where he discovered that she wasn't wearing a bra, it made his grin grow wider. In a matter of seconds, the gray tank top was discarded and he had moved his lips from hers down to her neck, nibbling softly at her skin causing a quiet moan to escape her throat.

Angel picked her up, her arms and legs wrapped around him as her lips went back to his automatically while he carried her to her bed, laying her down gently before sitting next to her. She was looking up at him, her face clean of any makeup, her hair still damp from her shower. He breathed in as he took in all of her beauty, she was perfect in every single way. Then she smiled; he thought he'd melt. Her fingers interlaced with his as she pulled him down to her level, her other hand resting on the back of his head as she pulled him into another perfect kiss. Quickly he kicked his shoes off and rolled on top of her, his knees on each side of her perfectly toned body. His lips moved to her neck again, slowly moving south until he reached her full breasts, the cool touch of his hand causing both nipples to become erect in an instant. Her head was spinning, every little touch had her on edge and wanting more. As his tongue swirled around one of her nipples another soft moan escaped, his other hand was gently massaging her other breast. Cordelia couldn't think of a time where she had been so completely happy, her stomach instinctively sucked in as he continued to move his head down, kissing down to her navel. His hands slowly moved down her sides, his fingers locking on the top of her shorts and the G string she wore underneath. He paused; looking up at her as if he was asking for permission, a small nod was all he needed before he removed the remaining pieces of clothing. As he did so he lifted one of her legs, his hand running up and down the smooth surface before he began to leave a trail of kisses from her ankle to her thigh, placing her foot down on the bed. He moved her other leg apart more as he continued kissing up her thigh. His heart was racing, he had wanted this for so long and thought he'd never get it. In one swift move his tongue he tasted her for the first time. To his delight, she was already insanely wet, his tongue moved roughly between her folds, purposely avoiding her clit, knowing it would drive her crazy. Angel wanted to grin when he heard her gasp, her breathing quickening with every little touch. She tasted incredible; he couldn't get enough of her. He moved one of his hands down, backing his head away from her for a brief second, letting his fingers touch her, feeling her body shake beneath him. He continued to rub her, feeling her continue to grow wetter by the second, his thumb moved to her clit, rubbing it gently at first as his tongue went back to work. He used his other hand to spread her legs apart more before letting his middle finger slide between her folds, teasingly entering her for a second before rubbing more. Hearing her light moans and fast breathing only made him want to keep going. Angel moved his hand away from her clit, letting his tongue finally flick it just as his middle finger entered her. His hand moved up to massage her breast, his finger pumping in and out of her while his tongue roughly flicked her nub before sucking on it for a moment, feeling her hips buck slightly. She was so amazingly tight, when he let a second finger enter her he could hear her wince in pain but he didn't stop, soon enough her moans were beginning to grow louder. Her fingers moved through his hair, tugging on it as she felt herself growing closer and closer. Every time his fingers plunged into her she could feel herself about to go over the edge until he sucked on her clit again while his tongue continued to move against it. The sensation was enough to make her scream, he could feel the cum as it dripped down his fingers, didn't stop, he kept going as her hips bucked against him, her entire body shaking, and her fingers pulling so hard on his hair that he was surprised none of it came out.

Cordelia took him by surprise when she began to regain control of her body, pulling him up to her by his hair and kissing him. It was nowhere near as gentle as the first kiss they had shared, it was rough, her way of telling him just how much she wanted him. As soon as he was face to face with her again, her hands moved down his chest, stopping at his belt which she unbuckled and discarded in record time. She didn't take a beat before unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down as much as she could. Angel kicked them off, gasping when he felt the warmth of her hands wrapping around his already rock hard cock. It took all of the strength he had not to cum right then. He helped her push his boxers off while she continued to let her hand rub up and down his dick before her other hand pushed down on his back. He looked down at her, her eyes were practically begging him, the anticipation of what was about to happen made his entire body shake. Slowly he lowered himself onto her, gently entering her. Cordelia bit her lip, he was a lot bigger than anyone she'd been with. Her eyes closed as he filled her completely, it hurt for a moment, but he gave her a second to adjust. He rocked his body slowly, still letting her get used to his size, and he was still getting used to how incredibly tight she was. In all of his years, with all of the other women he'd been with.. nothing felt as amazing as being inside her. He picked up his pace a little more, but he didn't want to rush it. Each slow thrust made him feel more and more alive, he'd never felt this close to anyone. He could feel his heart beating even faster as his thrusts became quicker, rougher; he wanted to be as deep inside of her as possible. He groaned as her nails dug into his back, his lips moving to her neck, kissing, licking, and biting at it as he continued to glide in and out of her perfectly tight hole. He was surprised once again when she used all of her strength to roll them over, straddling him. She had a wild look in her eyes as she began to ride him, slowly at first but before too long her hips were moving at an incredibly fast pace. Cordelia's hands fell to his thighs, squeezing them as her back arched, bending almost into a full backbend as she continued to move on top of him.

"Damn" he groaned, completely amazed at her flexibility, he knew she was a cheerleader, but damn. It was his turn to surprise her, he sat up quickly, his hands getting a good grip on her thighs before he stood up, using his strength to lift her off of his cock before slamming back down, she screamed, and God did he love the sound of her screams in his ear. He kept going, and her moans became louder by the second. He laid her back down on her back, her legs spreading into a full split as he continued to pound her, he bent over her, using his teeth to take one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking at it viciously as she squealed beneath him, his thumb began to rub her clit quickly. As she felt herself about to cum again, she pulled him down on top of her hard, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulled herself up, trying to get him as deep inside her as humanly possible. His entire body began to shake as he continued to pound into her tight little pussy, he could feel himself building up, he didn't know how much longer he could hold off. As her muscles began to tighten around his cock he forced himself to keep going, she had to get there with him. Harder, faster, deeper, her nails dug into his chest violently as she let out a moan, the feeling of her exploding all over him sent him over the edge. He kept thrusting deep into her as he started to cum, hard. Angel collapsed on top of her, still thrusting into her as he continued to cum, her tightening muscles milking him completely dry. Soon, his movements stopped altogether as he lay on top of her, both of them covered in each other's sweat, trying to catch their breath. Cordelia's eyes were closed, taking in everything from the moment, not ever wanting the wave of pleasure to stop. She smiled as she felt his lips brush against her forehead, opening her eyes for a second she stared up at him.

"Angel..?" she said quietly as he rolled off of her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Hm?" he was still out of breath when he looked over at her, smiling as he pushed a piece of her stray dark locks behind her ear.

"I love you too." Cordelia grinned, watching the look that he gave her, he was so amazed at how lucky he had gotten. He didn't say anything back to her, she knew he loved her. Instead, he just brought her closer, kissing her lips gently. Moments passed and the two just stayed there, perfectly happy in each other's arms. When the light went off Angel glanced over at Cordelia, who at that point was thinking the same thing as he was.

"Was Dennis in the room the whole time..?" he questioned, chuckling when he saw the gorgeous brunette burst into laughter.

[swtorpadawan]

Theron Shan in Absolute Trust

Author's Notes: FYI - This is an older piece written a couple of years ago. The Alliance Commander depicted in the following story is decidedly NOT my OC, Corellan Halcyon, but another JK Outlander. It takes place shortly after Knights of the Eternal Throne.

This is all just between us, right? Strictly our little secret? Good. Because you know I'd hate to have to kill you.

So, go ahead and pull up a chair. I'll buy you a Corellian Brew, and then I'll tell you a story.

People ask me, 'Why stay with the Eternal Alliance?' Oh, sure, back when the Eternal Empire was off subjugating the galaxy, it was easy to see why so many people would jump at the chance to join an organization dedicated to taking it down, especially when most of the really big players had rolled over to it. But why stay afterwards? Now that the war is over, hasn't the Alliance fulfilled its purpose? Shouldn't we all just go back to being Republic, or Empire, or Zakuulan, or whatever?

Well, for me, the answer is simple: Our Commander is the reason I stayed. He's the reason I've believed in the Alliance for as long as I have.

I have a great story to illustrate my point, but first it needs some background on my friend and leader.

Nowadays, people just call him the Commander. So much so that most seem to have forgotten his actual name.

He used to be called 'the Outlander' by the masses, a name Arcann gave him as an insult but that he turned into a title of respect among friends and enemies alike.

Before that? Oh, he had a bunch of other titles. Master Jedi. Hero of Tython. Battlemaster of the Jedi Order. The Conqueror of the Sith Emperor. He held the honorary rank of General in the Galactic Republic. I think he was also a Paladin of House Organa of Alderaan - you know, If you're into that sort of thing. The Gree call him the 'Black Bisector of Coruscant'. (Yeah, I don't know either.) Oh, and a few of our recent Zakuulan recruits quietly call him the 'Dragon of Zakuul' when they think no one can overhear them. There's a story there for another time. The Commander's been a bunch of things over the course of a relatively short life. He's been a Jedi, a soldier, a hero, a Champion of the free galaxy, a rebel, a savior and now finally a peacemaker.

Yeah, it's true – his reputation has always been as a warrior first. And probably the greatest in the galaxy. That's one reason why he's inspired so many martial types – Jedi, Sith, Republic and Imperial Commandos, Mandalorians, heck, even gangsters – to his side. And then keep them there. He wins a lot. I admit, I really do regret not being present for his showdowns with Arcann or Vaylin or Valkorian. What can I say? He needed me someplace else in each case. I do remember his fight against Revan a few years ago, though. A bunch of us fought by his side. Myself, Lana Beniko, Satele Shan - the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Lord Scourge - the Sith Lord who used to be the Emperor's Wrath, Darth Marr - who was basically running the Sith Empire at that point, Shae Vizla - who went on to become Mandalore, Jakarro - this Wookie bounty hunter we had buddied up with – all serious customers. Even with all of us behind him, the Commander – who was still just a Jedi Master at the time - stood out. Watching him in that fight was like nothing else I've seen. There's no way we could have taken down Revan without him. And if anything, he's only become more powerful since then. It's kinda scary when you think about it.

What's that? Who am I? Oh, sorry. Theron Shan, at your service. Former agent of the Galactic Republic's Strategic Information Service (that's "spy" to those of you not in the know), sometime hero and adventurer, now a senior adviser to the Commander of the Eternal Alliance.

But getting back to the Commander - This man has taken blows that would have crushed anyone else. Falling to the dark side, then bouncing back. Losing those years of his life when he was imprisoned in carbonite, knowing most of his friends were missing and maybe even dead, seeing almost everything he'd fought for destroyed in his absence. Then being hounded by the Eternal Empire with just a handful of allies when he finally got free. Then later watching his nascent Alliance being abandoned by the Senate of the very Galactic Republic he had once championed. Watching friends and allies die in the final battles to take down the Eternal Empire, and finally overcoming Valkorion in a battle for his own mind.

I've seen him win so many battles and lose so much along the way, I honestly don't know how he keeps going. But he does. And deep down, I knew he always would.

And I think everyone else in the Alliance pretty much thought the same.

What's that? Am I related to… Oh, kriff, really? Alright, yes, fine. I am the illegitimate son of Master Satele Shan, former Grand Master of the Jedi Order. (Who incidentally was the Commander's boss at the time we met.) Yes, I am a descendant of Bastila Shan, hero of the Jedi Civil War centuries ago. And if the name Revan means anything to you, yeah, I can claim him as an ancestor, too. And heck, why shouldn't we bring up the fact that my father is Jace Malcolm, the Supreme Commander of the Republic military? And that I didn't even meet either of my parents until I was almost thirty? And that my mother apparently went into hiding years ago after the Eternal Empire invaded, and that she didn't even bother to send me a message to tell me she was alright?

Not that I'm, you know, bitter or anything.

Anyway…

The Commander and I, though, we've been through a lot, since well before Zakuul invaded. Heck, we even met a couple of times before that Korriban operation went sideways and eventually led to us meeting Lana and squaring off with Revan. We kept that hush-hush, though. My old bosses at the SIS wouldn't have approved of what we were doing. It's possible my mother wouldn't have been okay with it either. Story for another time.

In all our time together, he never brought up the fact that Satele was my mother. Or that I was raised as a Jedi initiate as a kid before washing out because I didn't have 'the gift' of the Force. Don't tell anyone, particularly him, but I always… really appreciated that.

I don't want to sound like I'm bragging here, but I don't think I'd be totally out of line if I told you I'm probably the Commander's best friend at this point. Nothing touchy-feely, you understand. In my job, I don't place too much stock in terms like that, but it's likely true. There are only two people in the whole Alliance he's known for longer than he's known me, and both of those are members of his old crew, back when he was just a Jedi running around the galaxy with five companions in one small ship. They're both good people, don't get me wrong, but one is an AstroMech droid who talks in beeps and whistles and the other is a drill Sergeant with the personality of a Durasteel wall. So as far as confidantes go, yeah, I feel I'm at the top of his list when it's time to share memories over a beer.

Not that he does that a lot, being a former Jedi, but we have.

Of course, then there's Lana, who is a very special case.

Lana Beniko, the former Minister of Sith Intelligence. Brilliant. Ruthless. Beautiful. Deadly. We'd become partners of convenience years ago when were both on the run during the Revanite Crisis. We worked well together. I respected her. I even liked her. We were friends. Even good friends. But I never forgot that she was a Sith. She and I had a little incident back on Rishii when she let me get captured and tortured by the Order of Revan so she and the Commander could find their base by tracking me down.

I mean, that was a long time ago, so I'm mostly over it.

Mostly.

Anyway, so Lana was the one who freed the Commander from that carbonite prison in the Spire on Zakuul. She searched for him almost non-stop for five years, even after everyone else had given him up for dead. She risked everything to rescue him, convinced that he was the only one who could defeat the Eternal Empire. Since then, she's been totally dedicated to his cause, building the foundation of the Alliance up from nothing and rarely leaving his side, except when he needed her to. Heck, she even chose the location of our headquarters here on Odessen.

Eventually, she and the Commander even started sharing a bunk. So, you know, they're close. Special case, like I said.

(And just for the record, Lana's interest in the Commander as more than just an ally? Totally called it years ago. This was right after that thing on Ziost, when she didn't have the Commander and I killed for not turning a Vitiate-possessed Jedi Master over to her for an 'examination'. Believe me, she didn't hold off for my sake.)

If the Commander was the heart and soul of the Alliance, Lana was the mind. Her intelligence and ruthless determination helped forge a grassroots resistance movement into an organization rivaling the great powers of the galaxy. The Commander consults with her on every major decision.

(Me? I try to be the Alliance's conscience. Hey, don't look at me like that. Someone needed to do it.)

Some of the troops – the few who were with us way back on Yavin years ago – they still call the three of us the Triumvirate. Sounds like a gang of spice dealers of Nar Shadaa, I know. But just between us, I always kind of liked it. A Jedi, a Sith and an SIS Agent. Sounds like the opening of a bad joke.

Instead, we saved the galaxy. More than once.

But here's my story. So, a few months after the Commander took down Valkorian and claimed the Eternal Throne, Lana and I were vetting the application for a potential recruit. We'll call the guy Slade, though you can bet your last credit that it wasn't his real name.

He was ex-Sith Intelligence, one of their 'Watchers'. He had briefly worked for Lana years ago before the Eternal Empire had invaded.

Now I'm a spy by trade myself, but this guy was shifty even for my line of work. Lana was suspicious of him right from the start when he came to us. Said she remembered Slade as being too "old Empire", loyal only to the most powerful Sith within arm's reach. She also assessed that he changed loyalties too fast to be trusted with important assignments. She said he could be insufferably flattering to a superior, and equally arrogant to his subordinates. Lana concluded that it was incredibly suspicious that he was choosing to join us now, and not months before, when the rebellion was in full swing.

I tried playing devil's advocate for a while, but Slade's background check generated too many red flags, including the suspicious shifting of a large amount of credits to his accounts through the Hutt Cartel, but originating elsewhere. We couldn't trace the origin, but when he waffled on his explanations for where the money came from, we both agreed it was best to give him the boot.

Lana and I were escorting Slade to the shuttles with a couple of Alliance troopers – one ex-Republic, the other former Imperial. That's how we try to do it. No restraints; we were still treating him with kid gloves at this point. We were walking past the war room – basically the command center of the whole base – when Slade spots the Commander. He was talking to Hylo Visz, our former celebrity smuggler turned Head of Underworld Logistics for the Alliance. They were probably going on about trade routes, but Hylo is one the few people in the galaxy who can honestly relate with the Commander's experience of having spent a few years frozen in carbonite, only to wake up to a galaxy that looked very different from how they left it. So I guess they did have that much in common, anyway.

Arcann was by his side, too. Yes, it was that Arcann. Valkorian's son, who had seized the Eternal Throne and invaded the rest of the galaxy. The one who had imprisoned the Commander in carbonite for five years, then hunted him and his allies down for months. The one most of us had joined the Alliance to stop in the first place. But when the time came, the Commander barely hesitated to trust that Senya, Arcann's mother, was right that there was good in him. How crazy is that? But then he joined us after being redeemed, helping us stop both Vaylin and Valkorian. Arcann was now one of the Commander's most powerful supporters.

In a private moment, Arcann had once asked the Commander how he had been able to forgive him for everything Arcann had done, both to the Commander and to the rest of the galaxy. The Commander just told him that if he hadn't given Arcann that chance, everything the Commander's life had stood for would have meant nothing.

Yeah, every once in a while, the Commander could be as enigmatic as the most wizened Jedi Master.

Anyway, Slade suddenly makes a break for it, running straight towards the Commander. He was a slippery one to make it as far as he did. Now if we hadn't already been convinced we didn't want him around, the sheer stupidity of making this move right there, right in the heart of the entire Eternal Alliance, would have been enough. Immediately, I drew my blaster and called for Slade to freeze, and our escort leveled their rifles. Six more Alliance members interposed themselves between the intruder and the Commander, ready to give their lives if needed to protect him. Arcann stepped forward as he ignited his lightsaber, wary of this apparent intruder.

Of course, all of that was superfluous when one of the people who had been escorting the target was a highly-motivated Sith.

I could tell Lana was furious that we had let this guy get anywhere close to the Commander. I mean, yeah, we had checked him for weapons and other 'toys' and it's almost impossible to think he could have actually harmed the Commander personally without them. But Lana didn't really care. She reached out with the Force, and next thing you know poor Slade is levitating in the air, grabbing his own throat in pain and desperation. Force-Choke is still part of Lana's repertoire, even if she's embraced the Commander's "tactical restraint" doctrine. She stepped towards him in full-on Sith mode, totally prepared to kill him on the spot. Naturally, by now, everyone's watching this exchange. Between communications staff, analysts, guards and Alliance members just passing through, there must be have been over thirty people watching this guy struggle for his life as Lana approached him. I sighed and holstered my weapon, hoping I wasn't about to have a corpse to cleanup.

Then came the very distinct sound of a throat being cleared, and all those eyes turned. It was the Commander himself. He had stepped forward and was holding up a forestalling hand to Lana. His expression to her was patient; his old Jedi training and discipline still occasionally served him well in his new role. Lana obviously knew that look. She didn't look at all happy, but she reluctantly lowered her arm, releasing Slade. The man fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Arcann and the others stood down, but were still wary.

The Commander stepped towards Slade and helped him to his feet, then he moved back and gave him a few moments to recover. He stood with his hands folded behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart, looking every bit like the rock that the Alliance was built on.

"Mister Slade, was it?" the Commander spoke in a polite but very formal voice. "I'm sorry we won't be working together, but everyone who becomes part of the Alliance has my complete trust." He gestured around the room for effect. "And I'm afraid Lana and Theron have strongly advised against adding you to that list." There was a firmness to his statement that made it clear that this point was not open for discussion.

Slade, apparently, didn't pick up on that.

"But Commander." The little weasel was still recovering his breath, but his nerves were apparently doing fine. "There are things you don't know about these trusted advisors of yours!" he pointed wildly back at Lana.

The Commander didn't budge. He merely raised a questioning eyebrow at the man as people started tensing up, Lana among them.

"For example." His expression became rather smug as his confidence grew. "Did you know that after you fought side-by-side on Yavin, Darth Marr's first assignment for Lana Beniko as Minister of Sith Intelligence was to have her develop a series of tactics the Empire could use to 'neutralize' you specifically if you turned against them? She was planning ways to kill you!"

The entire chamber suddenly turned deathly silent.

"How dare you?!" Lana's voice cut through the room, her face taking on a murderous rage. Her eyes, which had already been glaring intently at Slade, seemed to shift into daggers.

I hadn't known about Slade's revelation, but I was hardly shocked by it. I stepped forward and gently put my hand on Lana's shoulder, just hoping I could keep her from making a bad situation worse. She shrugged the hand off, and then gave me a look that told me that if I were almost anyone else, I'd have lost the hand.

The Commander's eyes never left Slade. He simply raised a hand to forestall Lana from acting again. She just stood there, simmering. This two-bit operative had successfully gotten under her skin.

He hadn't gotten under the Commander's skin, though. The man still hadn't budged an inch at Slade's revelation. In fact, he had never looked away from Slade. Without looking, without even using the Force, I could tell he was appraising the room. Gauging the mood, and finding a solution.

"Well." The Commander's tone of voice was amiable, but the pitch of his voice allowed everyone listening to hear him clearly. "Then I'm very glad she never had the opportunity to use them."

That let a lot of the air out of the chamber. People relaxed just a little bit, some of them visibly exhaling from holding their breaths. There were even a few nervous chuckles from around the room, and Vette, our Twi'lek professional thief turned crack saboteur let out a high-pitched laugh. Lana still looked angry, but she blinked. Slade? He just stood there with his mouth open in disbelief.

Evidently, he had never put together a 'Plan B'.

The Commander finally started moving, pacing around Slade like a Nexu who was trying to decide if the bark rat it was stalking was worth the trouble.

The Commander's voice was level and calm. It was as if he were giving a lightsaber lesson in the training grounds. "But let me tell you another story, Mister Slade. I once met a wise man on Tatooine. To tell you the truth, he was kind of a strange, old hermit. But he taught me a few important things, including the difference between complete trust and absolute trust."

"Complete trust, you see, is what they call it when you trust someone so much that you would still trust them even if they were holding a dagger at your throat."

Here the Commander stopped, smiled and beamed proudly. "I have to tell you, Mr. Slade. The second-best part about my job is that I now have a literal army of people at my back, each of whom I trust completely." Here his arms spread wide, indicating everyone in the chamber. Still, his eyes never left Slade's.

And just like that, all the tension in the room just melted away. Guards stopped clenching their weapons. People swallowed and looked around at each other. A lot of people even smiled proudly. It wasn't just because of all the things the Commander had accomplished; it was because of all the things people hoped he'd achieve in the future. They believed in him. All of them. And knowing he believed in them empowered each of them to do whatever he asked of them.

"Now, absolute trust, on the other hand, is a little bit different." The Commander continued. "Absolute trust is what they call it when you'd still trust someone even after they had just slit your throat and left you to die with your life's blood spilt across the desert sand." He continued to use hand gestures to express the concept.

The former Imperial finally found his voice. "But… that's insane." Slade sputtered.

"No. That's trust." the Commander replied crisply. "And Alliances are built on trust."

He resumed his pacing around Slade. The operative looked like he was getting smaller and smaller the longer he held the Commander's attention.

"The point, Mister Slade, is that in this strange life I've led, I've met four remarkable people whom I trust absolutely." The corners of his lips turned upward for the briefest of moments. "Not counting AstroMech droids, of course." He smiled over at Tee-Seven, the old member of his crew, who rolled forward and returned his comment with a series of beeps.

The Commander turned back to Slade. "Now two of these four people… are lost to me forever." His eyes closed as he inhaled the air, and I could feel the sadness in his voice.

A full moment of silence was observed before he exhaled and his eyes suddenly came open, focused on Slade's and full of intensity.

"The remaining two are now standing at your sides."

I started at that, giving a little glance around. I realized that the two he was talking about were Lana and myself. She realized it, too. I saw her lips part just a little, and her eyes took on this glazed look. For the first time in the encounter, her complete attention was now on the Commander and not Slade.

Because Slade no longer mattered.

There was this enigmatic look the Commander occasionally took on. A look that was decidedly not 'Jedi'. A look that forced me to remember that for nearly a year, Valkorian had inhabited the Commander's mind as a 'back seat driver', and that while the old Emperor might be long gone (finally!), there were some lessons that he might have left behind about leadership, power and loyalty. The Commander's eyes were full of these lessons as he smiled intently on Slade.

"And if anyone needed any additional proof of Lana's loyalty, Mister Slade, then consider this: You are still alive."

I've never seen a man shrink like Slade did just then. There was nothing this weasel, this small fraction of a man, could ever do to even scratch the veneer of either the Commander or the Eternal Alliance. There was silence in the room again. But this time, people weren't nervous or apprehensive. This time, almost everyone seemed to be following the Commander's lead, looking upon Slade as an intruder. An enemy. Someone who had dared to even try to disrupt the Eternal Alliance, and was now being cast out.

For a second there, I thought we'd have to get Slade a new pair of pants.

"But since I'm in a good mood today, I'll let Theron be the one to escort you out." The Commander's smile became marginally kinder, but in a formal, detached way. His tone of voice was somehow intimidating without being threatening as he leaned in and spoke in Slade's ear, still loud enough to be heard. "Go and tell whatever masters you serve that the Eternal Alliance will not fall today."

Then, for almost the first time in the whole encounter, the Commander looked away from Slade, smiling over at me and giving me the nod.

Just like that, it was all over.

I hung back once Slade was restrained and firmly in the hands of our armed escort. I just didn't want to miss the post-credits scene. The Commander gave a confidant smile as he turned and addressed the troops.

"Back to work, everyone. The galaxy isn't going to save itself."

Everyone did just that, and let me tell you, it left them all with a renewed sense of confidence in the Eternal Alliance and what we stood for. Yeah, we all came from different places and had different views of how the galaxy should work. But every one of us believed the Commander was the man to make all that work, and that he'd find a way to win when it came time. Most of these people had endured years of hardship and loss, which was bad enough. Worse still was the uncertainty, particularly for the future.

Now they had something – someone - ensuring that they had a future worth fighting for.

It was only then, with relative privacy, that he turned to Lana with a smile. A different smile than one he gave to me or the troops; one that was just hers. I couldn't help myself. I used the cybernetic implant in my ear to eavesdrop on their exchange. Not a skill I often advertise, but it has its uses

(Hey, i am a spy.).

Lana immediately started to speak. I couldn't see her eyes clearly from this angle, but I didn't need to. She desperately wanted to explain herself. "Commander, I – " she began.

"Shhhh." he gently silenced her, reaching up and caressing her cheek. "I don't question your love. Don't question my trust."

Lana blushed, and if they hadn't been standing in a public area, I imagine she'd have been doing much more.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "And for the record, the time I spend with you is the best part about this job." He grinned. It made him look almost boyish. He'd accomplished more than most people would in ten lifetimes, but for all of that, he wasn't quite thirty.

"Come on." He reached down and took her hand in his. "I'll take you to dinner, and you can tell me all about these special 'tactics'." He seemed positively cheerful now, like the galaxy was finally moving in the right direction.

Lana just smiled, taking his hand and following him out.

Wow, am I right? I mean, who wouldn't walk into a Corellian hell for a man like that?

That's why I've stayed with the Alliance all this time. I'll never have a boss I admire as much as him. Or a friend.

After all, he'd given me his absolute trust.

***********************************************

After I put Slade on a shuttle headed for Nar Shadaa, I was walking out of the docking bay area when I ducked into an empty maintenance closet. I quickly unscrewed the control knob on my blaster, then I used a short length of wire from my jacket to connect it to my implant. Neither object was suspicious in and of itself, but combined they did a little bit more than you'd expect. Alliance Headquarters has security measures for this sort of thing, of course, but I designed most of them, so they wouldn't be a problem. Alone and unobserved, I spoke aloud.

"Begin transmission. Scorpion reporting. Slade was a non-starter. Next time, send an asset who's halfway competent, not to mention plausible. The Iokath Gambit remains on schedule. End transmission."

I killed the device, putting the knob back on my blaster and securing the wire between the fibers of my jacket. Then I let out a guilty sigh as I shook my head sadly.

"He's never gonna see it coming."

Hey, I did say this was all just between us, right? Our little secret?

[jvnkves]

|| Get to know VELMA DINKLEY who’s NINETEEN years old and a FRESHMAN in college majoring in FORENSICS. They are from CALIFORNIA and are often times mistaken for ISABELLA GOMEZ while others say they remind them of VELMA from SCOOBY DOO. ||

Headcanons

They’ve never felt ashamed of their identity once they figured it out for themselves. It was more a fear of other people not accepting them that made Velma hesitant to come out. 

They love unsolved cases and spend their time watching tv shows and movies all about crimes. They’re pretty sure they’ve solved a few, but they don’t think anyone would believe them.

Velma’s never gotten below a 4.0 gpa in their life and if they did they would probably cry. 

Their humor is more on the dry and sarcastic side, but they’re never afraid to laugh at their own mistakes and even some of the stupid jokes and puns their friends make.

They pride themself on being the voice of reason in the group.

Without their glasses, Velma is legally blind.

While they definitely prefer they/them pronouns and will tell people such, if people just default and use she/her they don’t get as stressed and uncomfortable as they used to. They know people are ignorant and they’re going to tell them such and they like educating people on that. Of course, when people they know and are out to use those pronouns for them, they do get a little more hurt by it. 

They feel comfortable in their skin, they feel like they know who they are. But Velma still has their bad days where they’re unsure about it all. About their identity, about their sexuality, about any of it. They know they’re lucky to have a group of friends that supports them so much because they know there are some who don’t have that. But even with all the support in the world, they still get self conscious about it at times. They sometimes feel like they’re not good enough for other people.

They want to study forensics to help solve mysteries and murders and cold cases. 

They believe in aliens and certain supernatural things, but mostly endulge the rest of the gang. 

They’re a realist

Velma tries to say they’re a pacifist, but they will punch someone if they have to. Not because they want to, but because it’s what needs to be done.

Fun Facts

They basically live off of coffee since sleep is not something they do a lot of.

They can’t drive.

They want to believe in the magic that’s been happening in Corona, but they’d like to see it first and maybe run some tests or experiments. Or at least assist someone who runs tests or experiments. 

Connections

Norville “Shaggy” Roberts -  Shaggy was the first person in the Mystery gang they felt comfortable coming out to. The two of them have just always been close, and something about their laid back demeanor keeps Velma calm. Shaggy is also the only member of the Mystery Gang that Velma has actually slept with.

Daphne Blake - Velma’s best friend for as long as they can remember. Daphne and Velma have a special connection and they really balance each other out. Velma also looks to Daphne as an assisting voice of reason when Shaggy and Fred get out of hand. The two of them have made out of a few occasions and got pretty close to sleeping together before Velma chickened out. They haven’t admitted this, but they were just nervous because they didn’t want to disappoint Daphne. 

Fred Jones - Velma would probably still live in their own little bubble if it weren’t for Fred. He really helped them come out of their shell, and he’s always been there for them and supported them in his own way. Velma has had the least romantic interaction with Fred. Not because they don’t want to, but because 1) they’re intimidated by him a bit in the sense of who’s more experienced, and 2) they don’t think it’s fair that they get with Fred before Daphne does.

Chuckie Finster - A good friend of Velma’s who they often find themself nerding out with. Either over books or movies or really anything. Chuckie is like the perfect geek friend to have. it’s nice to have a friend that has a lot in common with you.

Wanted Connections

More Friends - honestly, you can never have too many friends.

Exes, crushes, romance - Either someone Velma dated for a while, someone that either has a crush on them or they have a crush on, or someone who they maybe could see themself going out on a few dates with. 

Meddling Kid - Velma and their friends poke around in a lot of people’s business in the name of solving mysteries. Feel free to have someone who either is just annoyed with this young adult pestering them, or has concerns that they might actually come across something that could get you in trouble. 

A rival - this could be a competitive friend, an academic rival, someone else who likes to solve mysteries. This doesn’t have to be like a vicious rivalry, this could be amicable. Like they use each other to grow stronger sort of rivals. Like pokemon rivals.

Mystery buddies - Sure, Velma has the Mystery Gang, but they’d also love some other friends to solve mysteries with. Or Velma could just sort of be a consultant to your mystery solving muse. Maybe they share information they’ve gathered that might help each other out, maybe they actually work together. Velma would also like to meet someone who’s studying the magic because they know if they talk about it with their friends, they’ll never shut up. 

[banekilla]

( troian bellisario, thirty five, female, her/she ) Was that MALIA HARINGER ? I heard a rumor they work for the O’SHEA FAMILY family, but who knows for sure ? They can be a bit RECKLESS & NIAVE, but I also heard they can be QUICK-THINKING & LOYAL. You’ll usually find them at SKY FALL BAR in their spare time, when they’re not being an KINAHANS . You may want to keep an eye on that one !

Trigger Warnings: Abandonment, Murder, Police Brutality, Drugs & Domestic Abuse

BIOGRAPHY

With beautiful long brunette hair and standing at five foot six, Malia had always been the cute one of her friends and family. If you saw Malia In public you’d get the impression straight away she was a well-rounded individual with her well-spoken tongue. But beneath layers she had built was something much darker. Ever since Malia can remember her parents had always treated her like their princess, they never spoiled her even though they were of money.

But she wasn’t treated badly and was always given her fair share of treats from her father. As time went along her parents split sending Malia into a downward spiral at school. It wasn’t the typical kind of break up for parents, her father Darren, who posed as an investment banker also worked in his spare time as a consultant to Marcel and his family on their illegal drug trades. Malia grew up hearing her parents argue over her father’s discretion. Malia knew the day when her mother walked out of the front door she wouldn’t be coming back. And she never did.

Malia never forgave her mother for leaving her with her father, although she loved the man he had also lied to her and it showed that her mother never really loved Malia.

But as time progressed Malia and her father became extremely close. At a young age Malia would always be around Marcel’s house playing with his family members or staying there while her father was away on business. By the time she reached the age of sixteen Malia could tell you the problem with your car in five minutes flat and the boys would constantly be around hers teaching her new things about cars or better ways to drive. It became a part of her every day life. With the money that was coming into her house hold from her father working for Marcel meant she pretty much lived the  high life, but as she began to progress in her own life she started to partake in the business herself. It was quickly noted that she had a talent and before anything else could happen, she knew every chemical that you needed to run a smooth meth lab and was very familiar with the drug trade and how to operate weaponry.

Throughout her life Malia had never had girl friends but in fact, her racing boys were her life. It was at seventeen years old when she first laid her eyes on Riley Parton, big time racer and the most beautiful man she’d ever met. At first the both of them were thrown into a whirl wind of emotions, he was loving but dangerous and she was edgy but caring. As a pair they worked and made people around them jealous. But the second the doors were closed things soon changed, being part of Marcel’s inner crew Riley had his way with Malia never giving her much of a say.

Even in this day and age there was an equality in the community that she was a female. The boys tanked over her and thus she felt like she couldn’t say exactly how and what was happening; even her racing was a shock to most except the Marcellus boys.

But things would change drastically in Malia’s life in her early twenty’s, after spending four years with someone you’d think you know everything about them. The in’s and outs. It was the first proper time they’d argued about him picking her up an hour late, they’d bickered but a full on screaming match broke out in their front living room.

Malia turned to leave and before she could get out the door Riley had punched her in the back of the head. It was the first time he’d ever done it. But it wouldn’t be the last as time went on Riley started to progressively get worse with Malia making it harder for her to leave him or speak out. It was a living hell. She covered it as best as she could. 

But if that wasn’t enough to be dealing with at such a prime time in her life, there was only one step and one action that made her realise she had to get out. Malia came home one day early from being out to dinner with Marcel and his family, as she entered her apartment she caught Riley and Cassie, a former friend of hers in bed together. It was in that moment that Malia packed her bags and left. She felt free for the first time in four years.

As life seemed to finally be pulling it back together for her she was racing every week with her friends. One night when she was out hanging with her friends by the old warehouses, they’d all retreated after doing a few small time deals. As the night progresses two of the four pull guns on Malia and her friend Mex.

In a state of survival Malia and Mex pull their guns out in protection. The stand-off is intense when the cops show up. To their surprise Malia and Mex realise that the other two had set this entire thing up to try and bring down Marcel and his team. With the cops surrounding them Malia will not back down, even though Mex has lowered his gun to the ground. Malia tries to keep her mind focused as she holds the gun but as a cop creeps up behind her, startled she shoots the gun not realising that another cop Is standing in front of her.

In the craziness that happened in the next fifteen minutes Malia couldn’t really remember much as it all looked like a blur. But later that day Marcel had Malia and Mex pack their bags and leave Seattle. For the next four years Malia found herself travelling, racing for cash in other countries and trying to make a life for herself out of what she could.

Then aged thirty years old Malia has spent a couple of years travelling alone after Mex met a girl in Spain. Mex left him with his new fiance and Malia moved on to the next place on her map, while travelling around the beautiful island of Thailand she received a call.

Malia’s beloved Marcel had been arrested in regards to the racing gangs that had been dominating the streets of Seattle. The life she used to be apart of, living for the drama and the thrills that only an expensive car with the perfect tires could create. Someone had taken over what was believed to be part of her families legacy; luckily enough someone who was trusted within the circle.

Malia was unsure If she’d even want to return, especially to Seattle but Marcel said he needed her expertise on her work with racing and meth chem. Knowing she could never say no to the man that saved her life and needed her now, she knew she couldn’t leave him high and dry. Without another word she was returning home on the next flight. She didn’t know what awaited for her back home, she’d missed her father greatly. But would It be the same? Or would her life be completely different.

Knowing full well that Riley was still in town made her heart race, she didn’t ever want to see him again and seeing people that she left behind when she was a lot younger would be interesting in order for her to bond with those people again. She’d kept in contact with a few but it was going to be a new learning curve for her. 

The time in Seattle was fleeting, word of her being back spread like wild fire, and she left. It was Marcel’s idea for her to start again and really focus on going somewhere, where her skills could be honed and was pointed in the direction of The O’Shea’s. That was five years ago.

Now here she stood five years on working for The O’Shea family. She was a lone wolf. That was how people described her a lot of the time, someone with a wild fire mind, that would do anything for those who’d do the same if she needed it. Malia Haringer lived for The O’Shea. The drugs were what got her in, her ability to do what she did best (besides racing cars)

PERSONALITY

Malia is extremely loyal sometimes to a fault with the need to please and be perfect. She is seen to be one of the boys which is often a good thing in her team. Malia is someone who loves cars, fighting and drinking and that has never really changed and often she is found drinking alone in a bar or driving around with her friends to pass the time. Drugs however, the creation of them, was something she takes to heart -- it has to be perfect, her custom has to like it. 

Three (3) Positive Traits: Compassionate, Courageous & Logical 

Three (3) Negative Traits: Domineering, Irresponsible & Unpredictable

[wewillwriteyou]

Friends Will Be Friends || Chapter 19

A few elements from the main plot: A very special group of friends: early days, drama, laughter, booze, success, rock stars life, girl power, friendship, love, sex, music, misunderstandings, some more drama, family. Pairings in the tags

Summary Chapter 19: The group is about to start a new adventure.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Mainly FLUFF, references to sexual times (if you really really squint). Just loads of fluff. Occasional curse word, but what’s new?

A/N: Hi folks! This is officially the last section to the story (😭) It’s sad, we know, but don’t worry! There’s a lot of interesting stuff and I think this is the longest section. So enjoy yourselves, lovesies ��😏 and as usual, if you like what you read, comment, like, reblog and share this with others! For everyone who follows and supports this story, thank you guys (you know who you are)! You are real stars!⭐💗

Melissa sighed irritated, trying to squeeze another flowery dress into her already completely stored luggage. She had packed only the essential, as John had repeatedly told her, but a whole month away from home, meant a whole lot of clothes. It was late July, so her clothes didn’t take up much space, being mainly large t-shirts, comfortable baggy pants and fluttery sundresses, but she didn’t know what to expect from the weather of the plain, utter countryside they were about to be living in for the month to come.

The band was about to record another album and they had decided to distance themselves from the city for a while, to relax and find the inspiration for new songs.

They were staying in a farm they had rented from a friend of one of the crew members’: the band and their four girls all under the same roof. For one month. Knowing her friends and the awfully dramatic attitude of the whole group, Melissa was hoping they would make till the end without murdering each other.

However, she was quite proud of the efficiency the girl gang had proved: since the house was rented, they had to pack sheets, blankets, washing clothes and every other thing they might need in everyday life. She had already organized everything with the girls in order to get everyone to bring something they all could use, so that they could travel lighter and have everything they needed at the same time.

She reached for the closet to grab the clothes she had decided to wear for the road: orange silk-like pants that fell loosely till her ankles and loose, brown t-shirt she had actually stole from John’s closet.

As she was undressing from her nightgown, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the wall: she silently stood there in her panties, a pensive look on her face. She looked up and down her body, trying to catch even the slightest change: she noticed her breasts looked fuller and perkier than usual and, even if it was barely noticeable, she could see and feel a very small bump at the bottom of her tummy.

Melissa placed a hand on it and turned her body a quarter to her right to look at her profile and value how much of it could be seen by the naked eye. She sighed, realizing no-one would ever have seen it, but it was only a matter of time before it would become unmistakable.

She was pregnant. She had known for a few weeks now and had even consulted a doctor to be sure of it. Nine weeks, they said. Counting back, she knew exactly when it happened: after Japan. She smiled and shook her head remembering that day, uncapable of not thinking how reckless and inconsiderate they had been.

On the one hand, she knew John would have been over the moon if she told him he was about to become a dad and she as well couldn’t wait to start their own family.

On the other hand, she couldn’t help but think she was only twenty-three and didn’t have the first clue on how to handle pregnancy and all that stuff, and she was scared to death that she would have had to raise the child all by herself, with John who knows where touring with the band.

She felt her stomach clenching at the thought and shut her eyes closed, inhaling deeply before letting out a heavy exhale to get rid of all her worries and anxieties, just like her doctor had recommended. When she opened her eyes again she felt calmer, even though not completely tranquil yet.

She was not sure of why or of what she was waiting for before telling John, but the thought of sharing her secret with someone made it all become so… real.

She brought her hands to her face, loudly puffing. Why am I such a mess?

She let her hands fall down and slowly grabbed her clothes, dressing up and checking one more time in the mirror. With the t-shirt loosely tucked inside the pants and her hair falling down on her shoulders, she thought she looked like a perfectly normal twenty-something girl, who was almost definitely not freaking out inside her head.

Melissa was still looking mindlessly at her reflection, when a knock on the door startled her.

“Come in” she said, adjusting her hair on the front.

Brian slowly walked in and smiled “You look beautiful, Mel” he said without even thinking about it and the girl thankfully smiled.

“Thanks, Bri” she uttered, picking up her straw hat “I swear, I’m ready”

He smiled “Don’t worry, I was just checking on you. You’ve been quiet for a while”

She shrugged “Yeah, well I was just finishing packing”

Brian studied her glitchy movements and knew something was not right.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Melissa froze for an instant, her back turned to Brian. “Yeah, totally fine” she forced a smile “Never been better. I’m just excited for the trip”

Brian chuckled, not at all convinced “Well, it’s not a trip… We’ll have work to do, you know?”. He decided it was better for him to give her some space and keep an eye on her from the distance.

He looked at her one more time and Melissa smiled sincerely this time: he smiled back. Brian grabbed her luggage and headed to the apartment’s door, followed by Melissa right after.

“Roger’s already in the car, go ahead, I’ll take care of this” Brian fumbled with his keys and Melissa thankfully nodded, heading downstairs.

Her brother waved at her from the driver’s seat and gestured her to take the front seat.

“You look radiant, sis,” he smiled and patted her on her thigh “to what do we owe the honour?”

Melissa knew Roger couldn’t have suspected anything, but she was tense as the string of a violin “I guess it’s just the warmth of the summer” she decided to say, laying back on her seat.

Roger studied her face, as she was concentrated on some spot in the distance down the street: he had never seen her so… radiant was the only word that came to his mind. The sun was up and hot in the sky of the last half of July, but Melissa was like glowing of her own light. Even her movements were lighter and softer. She looked relaxed, he thought, and he couldn’t help but realize that was probably because of John. Roger had loved the times spent with Chelsea on tour and often he felt bad for them because they hadn’t had the chance to have such an experience.

He moved his hand up her thigh to squeeze gently her hip and Melissa jumped on her seat

“Don’t you dare, Rog” she warned him.

He smirked and repeated the gesture until she was trying to escape his reach by inching towards the door of the car, giggling and gasping altogether. Roger had always enjoyed tickling her when they were younger, because Melissa was very sensitive on her hips.

When he stopped, taking her hands in his, they both had huge smiles on their faces. He squeezed her hands and let them fall right after, shifting in his set to turn on the engine. Brian walked into the car and they left the street to their apartment to dive into London’s traffic.

They were supposed to meet with the rest of the group at the farm they had rented in the countryside, four hours away from London.

The sun was still up in the sky, even if it was almost five o’clock in the afternoon: Roger was humming to the tune coming from the radio, his sunglasses lowered on his nose and his fingers distractly tapping on the steering wheel. Brian had stretched his long legs on the back seat and was reading a book, with his head resting on the side window. Mel had fallen asleep after almost an hour and was resting her head on the window, her hands involuntarily crossed on her stomach as if to cover and protect it.

Roger glimpsed at her and then at Brian in the rear-view mirror “Have you noticed something unusual about Mel?” he whispered to the boy, careful not to wake his sister.

Brian looked at his reflection through his lashes, then sighed “Honestly, yeah… but I wouldn’t know how to describe it” he confessed “Sometimes I see her tenser and more nervous than usual, sometimes it looks like she’s on another planet…”

“Thank God you have noticed too… do you have any ideas on what this means?” Roger looked at his sister one more time.

“I was hoping you would answer this question… Maybe something’s going on with John” Brian suggested.

“I don’t know��� honestly I thought that too and I wanted to ask him but I was too afraid I would make a mess…”

“Maybe she just missed him and realized that we’re half through the summer and that we’ll be on tour again in three months or so”

“Maybe…” Roger sighed “We should talk to John… I’m worried about her”

“You should talk to him” Brian corrected him “You have to start to speak openly about Mel with him… there’s nothing wrong, you know? You both care about her, don’t you?”

Roger knew Brian was right: whenever they came close to the subject ‘John and Melissa’ he ducked out. He didn’t know why. He just did. Deep down, he thought he would get too big-brother-y and compromise his relationship with John and the trust Melissa had in him.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right” he said in the end.

They stopped at a gas station for a while, an hour away from their destination, so that Roger could stretch his legs and they all could breathe some fresh air. It was past seven in the evening and they took the chance to eat something, the three of them leaning on the side of Roger’s car. When they went back on the road, the sun was already setting on the horizon, painting the fields around them with a golden, burning orange shade.

As they pulled into the farm’s drive Melissa wondered whether they had got the right address: besides the tiny one-way-only road from the main street to the farm, there was nothing but fields around them.

Roger stopped the car and they got out, noticing they were the first – and only - car to be there.

Brian looked around and said “Well, we wanted to get away from distractions… I think we’re far away from any possible centre of civilization”

Melissa chuckled “What better can we ask for?”

As she phrased this sentence, the sound of an incoming car resonated in their ears. A tiny blue car passed through the gates and parked right beside them: a curly mass of red hair jumped right out of it and waved at them, before quickly walking up to Brian, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Hey gorgeous,” he said smugly, circling her shoulders with his arm “how was your drive?”

“Smooth and lonely” she answered looking up at him “I wish I could have gone with you guys”

“Believe me you didn’t miss out on anything” Melissa uttered, stretching her back to sore some muscle contraction.

Roger puffed “You should talk, Mel, you were asleep for the most part of it”

Chrissie chuckled and Melissa put her hands on her hips “Well for the part I was awake, it made me want to go to sleep” she replied, making Chrissie laugh even more.

As they were chatting, another car arrived and out of it came Mary and Chelsea from the backseats and John and Freddie from the front.

Chelsea ran up to Roger and he took her in her arms, lifting her up and spinning her around. When she touched the ground again, she squeaked and leaned in to kiss him.

John followed them with his eyes as they headed inside with Brian and Chrissie. Roger was walking behind Chelsea, a hand on her lower back, while Chrissie was holding Brian’s hand, as he led them inside. Roger glanced at the redhead and winked at her; Chrissie rubbed her free hand on his upper arm and smiled. John couldn’t believe his eyes at how outrageously obvious the two of them could be, and resolved he had to isolate Brian and Chelsea from the group and just talk to them.

This exchange of looks only took a few seconds, the time needed for him to walk from his car to Roger’s and encircle Melissa with his arms from behind, as she was talking to Mary and Freddie.

“Hey you,” he whispered in her ear once he was close enough.

She turned her head slightly to give him a kiss on his cheek “Hey” she shyly replied.

Mary was baffled by that apparent distant welcome and she studied Mel’s face: the blonde gave her a small smile, still lulled by John swinging her from behind. Mary narrowed her eyes but decided not to investigate more, instead she said “We’ll have to hurry if we don’t want to sleep in the barn. Roger’s quite competitive, you know?”

They chuckled and headed to the three small steps leading inside the house. Even though it had brickwork walls and a huge plant of ivy creeping up on the front wall, the building itself was not that old: it was built during the thirties and had been adhibited as farm for almost thirty years. In the sixties, it was adapted as residence and some other smaller structures were added to the complex. Those most recent houses hosted the main equipment of the recording studio.

When the four of them stepped inside they found the rest of the group already arguing over who should have slept where.

“For God’s sake, we won’t sleep in the basement, it’s freaking cold down there!” Roger yelled.

“Well, someone’s gonna have to sleep there, we have four rooms, four beds and one of them is freaking downstairs” Brian replied, his voice altering a bit.

“Okay girls keep it down,” Freddie intervened “Let’s flip for it”

There were some protests from the others but Freddie set down his bags and scrambled into one of them to find a piece of paper and a pen.

“We’ll write the names and let fate decide” he stated, writing their names on the four corners of the paper and then ripping it in four parts. He jammed them in his hands to make sure they were well sorted, then turned to Mary.

“M’lady, please draw the names of first couple to get their accommodation in the room on the first floor” he said, slightly bowing in front of the girl.

She theatrically drew the paper and opened it “Oh, look darling, it’s us!” she said excited, showing the paper to the others.

“Oh c’mon they’re clearly bluffing!” Roger jumped in but Freddie pretended not to listen and invited Mary to draw the second one, for the other bedroom on the first floor.

“Brian and Chrissie” she stated and Brian patted Roger’s shoulder, with a mischievous grin on his face, while Chrissie stuck out her tongue to Roger, as he rolled his eyes and huffed annoyed.

“Seems like we have our two finalists” Freddie stated, smirking towards Roger and Chelsea and then winking at Melissa and John “One in the last bedroom on the first floor, one in the basement. Please, my love, pick a paper for the room in basement”

Mary drew one last time and smirked reading the names written on it “Melissa and John”.

Roger and Chelsea high fived and hugged, while John shoved them off, Melissa draped around his waist.

“At least we’ll have a whole floor for the two of us…” he said smirking and Melissa winked at the rest of the group, leaving them with their mouths open in shock. The two of them grabbed their bags and rushed downstairs, ready to unpack and create their own small home for that month being.

The six of them looked at each other in amusement and lightly chuckled.

“They’re right, you know?” Brian chuckled “They’ll be the only ones without any noisy neighbours…” and he looked suspiciously at Roger and Chelsea.

Chelsea was indignant and slightly amused by his accusation. She crossed her arms on her chest and Roger draped his arm around her shoulders “Well, I guess someone’s gonna have to cover their ears” he stated nonchalantly, a sly smirk painted on his face.

Chrissie burst out laughing, followed by Mary and Chelsea, while Roger and Brian began the weirdest staring contest Freddie had ever seen. He rolled his eyes and passed between them, his and Mary’s bags in his hands, and headed upstairs, followed by the girls. Brian broke the staring contest, unable to contain his laughter and Roger followed him right after.

Brian placed a hand on Roger’s shoulder and patted it, they were both still laughing like school boys, as they trailed back the group upstairs.

As soon as Melissa and John had reached downstairs and opened the door to the bedroom they realized they had probably won the game. The room was definitely big enough to be cut in half into two separate bedrooms, but the owners evidently had kept it as one because it probably wasn’t used as a bedroom normally.

There was a stake out bed at the centre of the front wall and a huge wardrobe on the right side of the room. On the left, there was a large desk, with some piles of papers, folders and files all effortlessly sorted in the corners; above it, two shelves with books and records of all sorts completed the wall. The ceiling was pretty low: if John had jumped enough, he could have touched it. Behind the bed – that was in form of couch when they arrived – there was a low window that looked on the garden, or better, that was just above the ground level of the garden.

Melissa thought that it was a lovely space and it wasn’t even that cold considering they were ‘underground’. She looked over to John and smiled: he was already unzipping the luggage and getting out the bed sheets she had brought. He felt her look on him and looked up to meet her eyes.

He smiled back and abandoned what he was doing to step towards her and wrap his arms around her shoulders, placing a kiss on her head. Melissa snuggled inside his chest, wishing they could have stayed like that forever, and her mind brought her back to the creature growing inside her belly.

In that very moment it was literally nuzzled between their bodies and Melissa couldn’t help herself but smile against John’s chest: we’ll figure it out, the three of us, she thought, together.

-

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[vannderlinde]

Asunder:

..."to break apart or in two" or "to become parted or severed”...as in "a family torn asunder by tragedy…." 

Rating: M Ships: Dutch/Annabelle Word Count: 4,601 Keywords: Dutch Van Der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Annabelle, Micah Bell, Traumatic Brain Injury, Hallucinations Warnings: Major RDR 2 spoilers, Potentially mild to moderate references to mental health symptoms (TBI, panic attacks, hallucinations, disorientation, anxiety), heavy references to Arthur’s death.

Preface: Dutch flees after the events of “Red Dead Redemption,” otherwise known as the last mission for players in RDR 2. The gang was in shambles, scattered, and divided. Beaver Hollow was flooded with Pinkertons and traitors. Fear took residence in the Van Der Linde gang. Sides were chosen and threats were followed through. The once favored son, Arthur Morgan, fallen. His last moments spent seeking any comfort he could from his father figure. He was denied. Any hope was ripped from him as Dutch turned his back. Arthur’s final moments were lonely, hollow, and full of fear and pain. This fic begins directly after Dutch leaves Arthur and Micah on the cliff side. Dutch loses himself.

:You’re being a coward: :Only fearing your changed mind: :Where the hell did your spine go?:

What the hell just happened? Dutch’s head throbbed as his mind threatened to give up entirely. He slumped over the front of his horse as he was carried away from Beaver Hollow. The usually powerful and radiant man was broken, utterly shattered. He gave no feedback to his Arabian as they cantered in a seemingly unspecified direction with the one goal of creating distance between them and the gunshots that echoed in the woods surrounding the camp. He trusted The Count to get them to safety; but even if he didn’t, he lacked any strength that permitted him to care. The night was foggy and turning darker with each passing hoof beat.

As he rode, Dutch recounted the events leading up to now. An unwelcome awareness crept in and his own morality became painfully apparent. The once-worshiped gang leader was done, he was nothing. He lost. The events of this horrific day sealed everyone’s fate. All of those lives that he held in his hands, those who trusted in him, he had inadvertently murdered. It all felt so final.

Dutch’s mind drifted to the cliff side, he saw Arthur’s eyes plainly as if they were directly in front of him, instead of just a memory. Fear and terror were carved into his son’s stare. It was a look Dutch had never seen from Arthur, and that made him shiver. His beloved Arthur pleaded in sheer desperation for his help, yet Dutch turned his back. In that very moment, Dutch had realized Arthur had not been unfaithful. Arthur had been wrongly labeled as a traitor. His heart sunk, and he was paralyzed with dismay. Dutch shifted his gaze to Micah, but didn’t feel rage. Micah, who mere seconds ago had beaten Arthur to an inch of life. He felt absolutely nothing towards Micah. Dutch didn’t know what to think, or how to act. So he left.

And this vividly horrifying memory- could he, in fact, trust it? Dutch wasn’t sure if all of this even happened, or was he just living stuck in a nightmare? Was he even alive? He couldn’t trust his own mind to be honest with him.

Was Arthur alive? Micah? Molly? ...Annabelle? Who was left? He forced the thoughts to vacate his mind. He could only manage to process details of his current environment: 1) the wonderfully painful stars that filled the sky; 2) The Count’s gentle, but noticeably labored breaths;  3) the smell of gunpowder which still lingered thickly in the air. Time blended, and his timelines were unlinear as he tried to sift through events of the last moments, months...years. Dutch struggled, as the confusion engulfed him entirely. It was as if he was headed directly into a pure, black void. He was so ready to give up and let the night dissolve him if it was willed so.

Coward….Coward….Weak… Fool. His mind cursed him. Dutch’s heartbeat felt erratic, his vision blurred, his head felt completely foreign to him. He tore unsuccessfully at his scarf which covered his face. His actions were desperate, as if the scarf was preventing him to breath. A panic ensued which he could not control. Dutch had only felt loss of control a few times in his life- losing Annabelle, Colm abducting Arthur,  and Guarma, of course. However, over the last month or so, control seemed to be slipping away from him in other ways. He was a proud and persistent man, who needed and demanded control. But, in this moment, he was dust, he had no substance whatsoever-- Spineless.

Over the last few months, he began experiencing symptoms. At first, they were so subtle Dutch had no awareness of them at all: twitches, headaches, and fatigue. All of which, he concluded it was from the stress of running the gang. He could tell, however, the gang members were treating him differently. Feeling slightly vulnerable, this only worsened his anger he already felt over the entire situation. His first recollection of any true symptoms were a few days after the trolley station job in Saint Denis. It all started with his vision- he saw specks and streaks of light which floated softly in his field of vision. While it was noticeable, he could mostly ignore it. Occasionally, he would wake up from sleep to not be able to see anything at all. His vision would return moments later, but it was upsetting.

Next, came the irritability, which was less perceptible to him, but the others surely felt it. He had always been brutal, the life he led required it of him. This type of rage induced violence was different. John saw it when he drowned Bronte, Arthur saw it when he strangled the old woman in Guarma, and Dutch saw it when he nearly killed Molly. He was thankful that Susan stepped in, but he knew he would’ve just as easily pulled the trigger himself. This was not him, it definitely didn’t feel like him. It was like stranger took hold if him and he acted as they willed. The anger that filled him was unpredictable and impossible to dampen once flared. The stares from members around the camp and the doubt they obviously all shared weighed on him. He wouldn’t sleep anymore. If he did sleep, it was not restful, he was perpetually tense. Dutch began lashing out in unpredictable ways, it sometimes even scared him. One time, he even berated poor Tilly, the reason behind it he couldn’t quite recall. After some delay, Dutch snapped out of it and noticed her well up with tears. He dropped to his knees and begged for her forgiveness. Dutch was completely unhinged and he didn’t know why.

That is where Micah came in. At Dutch’s peak moments of confusion, he was there when Arthur wasn’t. Micah always had faith. Once his confusion and gaps in his memory became too great, the gang leader heavily relied on Micah’s consult. Micah would sit with him, and would listen to Dutch in an non-judgmental way. While following Micah’s advice didn’t always go well, it wasn’t about that. Dutch was losing himself, his ability to make reasonable and practical choices for the gang. He was afraid of appearing unfit to the other gang members. It terrified him as he was learning to live with his changing mind. Dutch was vulnerable, he sensed that Arthur and John knew this. Micah had helped Dutch when he was forgetful or had slipping thoughts. In a way, Micah was how Dutch was able to keep the facade for so long. He owed a lot to Micah for that reason. At this point, he could not even comprehend the possibility that Micah would betray him. The clarity and directness of Arthur’s words indicated that it was not a lie. Deep down, he knew that Arthur would not have fed him false information, it was not his way. It was something, though, that Dutch could not accept. Did he want Arthur to die? No. Dutch knew, however painfully evident, that leaving Arthur, was contracting his death. He left his son’s life in the hands of Micah.

Overwhelmed, Dutch abandoned the thought completely.

How did it come to this? The abrupt stop of the horse caused Dutch to snap out of his head and focus on the present. Where was he? It was still night, but he could make out that a town was out in front of him. A big town- could it be Saint Denis? He had no clue that he had been riding for that long, it had only felt like minutes. Dutch realized that he must’ve passed out at some point. He pushed himself upright into the saddle, and looked behind him. For a brief moment, panic took hold again that urged him to run back and find Arthur. He shuddered at the thought of what he would find if he did return. Still the urge remained, even with Dutch’s attempts to shove it aside. He inhaled sharply, trying to recollect himself. He was tired. Being alone like this was foreign to him, as he never went anywhere by himself. Nearly his whole life, Dutch was surrounded by people. The loss of his family was heavy, sucking the little life he had left. Not only was being alone emotionally difficult, it also made him feel incredibly exposed and defenseless. Without someone to cover him, he was at risk for an attack. At this point, even Molly would be a welcomed companion, despite the fact that she made his life hell.

He slid into Saint Denis unnoticed. Dutch knew the particular locations where he would likely run into law, and avoided them. The Count moved swiftly, but not at a desperate pace. After rounding a corner, he dismounted and hitched the Arabian a few blocks away from his destination. The streets were unusually quiet, Saint Denis was a bustling town, even at night. But, the silence of this hour was ghostly. Crouched, he navigated to the saloon. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was the best idea. Surely his face was plastered everywhere by now, and he knew it was possible that someone would notice an outlaw in their midst. At this moment, he couldn’t care at all. He entered the saloon and sat at the bar. With a stern glare, the bartender approached and poured him a drink. Dutch grunted thankfully, and also indicated he’d like to rent a room. The bartender put his palm out, asking for payment.

Dutch’s expression darkened, “I’m good for it,” he snapped sharply. The bartender backed off. The former-gang leader let his head drop into his hands as his elbows rested on the bar. Fatigue was causing him to shake slightly. He knew he needed to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t be easily accomplished. Dutch sat at the bar, unable to move for about an hour, possibly longer. His mind moved from one gang member to another and then repeated. Dutch would get hung up on Arthur every time his mind cycled through the list.

In a gentle, but startling way a presence appeared behind, placing their hands on either of his shoulders. He jumped, turning around to see a distantly familiar face. He paused a moment, unable to form words.

He finally opened his lips, but all he could get out was: “Annie…?” His voice was surprisingly soft with a slight crack. Eagerly, he stood up, reaching his arms out to her. Annabelle embraced him, and stroked his hair.

“You fool!” She cooed, “Why did you come here? They’re looking for you.” Her tone, while calm, was off-putting to Dutch.

He drifted from her touch, and stared into her eyes, “I missed you so much, darling…” A sense of peace came over him. In his confusion, he never once questioned her presence. She was as real to him as the bartender was real. No questions, no doubt. This figure in front of him was Annabelle. Annabelle smiled at him in a way that was only saved for Dutch. Dutch absolutely melted in response. He reached out to touch her, but stopped halfway before his hand dropped. Annabelle pulled Dutch into a deep hug. Dutch rested his head on her shoulder, still reeling from the day’s events.

“What have I done, Annabelle?” Dutch’s words sounded weak, almost childlike. He felt so small, so hopeless. A few moments had passed, with the two lingering in each other’s embrace. After a time, Annabelle wordlessly led Dutch upstairs to their room. Dutch reclined on the bed, exhaustion overtaking his entire body. Annabelle laid down next to him, resting her head on his chest. Everything about her presence brought healing. Peace washed over his very troubled soul. Ever so gently, Dutch caressed her head and hair, weaving his fingers through each strand just like he used to. His fingers carefully danced around her frame. His movements were slow, making sure to take in as much of her features as he could. His eyes closed, and if only for a moment, he forgot what had happened. He was at home with the gang and Annabelle, the disasters of the last few months were erased. This was short lived when Annabelle broke the silence, “How’s the gang, Dutch?” She inquired solemnly. He said nothing, finding the words were not coming easy.

“Hosea?” She asked. Dutch shook his head with a painfully blank stare. “Oh I see…” Annabelle dropped her voice off, “Well, Arthur, then?”

Dutch looked down at her, “They’re all gone, I failed, Annabelle.” Tears began to fill his eyes, distorting his vision. He could not control his feelings of hopelessness anymore.

Annabelle hugged him tighter, “Shhh...rest now, Dutch.” In response, Dutch buried his head into her wild hair, and sobbed very softly. He drifted off to sleep, while sorrow ate away at his heart. Having Annabelle here meant everything. Her touch, her voice, was just as he remembered. She was never really gone, he figured. She had always been there.

“Wake up, Dutch, they’re here!” Annabelle boomed in an unfittingly calm tone. Dutch awoke, with the sun piercing his eyes as he opened them. He had no idea how long he had been asleep for, causing him to be very disoriented. Annabelle stood by the window, peering outside at the street below. He quickly got up, looking out the window over her shoulder. Right outside the saloon were the Pinkertons. They were here for him. His heartbeat quickened as he scrambled to gather his few possessions. Dutch stumbled, barely managing to catch himself as he fell to the floor. He was in no condition to be on the run, let alone fight the Pinkertons.

“What do I do, Annabelle?” Dutch pleaded, becoming desperate. He always had a plan, he always knew exactly what to do, but this time he was unprepared. It was so apparent to him that he was coming completely unravelled, and this realization scared him more than the Pinkertons did.

Annabelle nodded, “We escape, Dutch, that’s what we have to do,” she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the back of the saloon. They were on the second level of the building, so somehow they would have to make it down without being noticed. Annabelle led Dutch to a door leading out the back balcony. Only one Pinkerton was stationed around this side of the building. Dutch pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the man’s head. Within an instant, the Pinkerton dropped from his horse. Dutch had to kill him, but he knew that it also meant more detectives would be attracted to the gunshot sound. Quickly, Dutch and Annabelle climbed down the ladder that led to an alleyway. Before too long, Pinkertons filled the alleyway from both sides, blocking their escape route completely. All guns were aimed on Dutch. Moving quickly, Dutch shot two or three of them easily, even despite his weakened state. An opening appeared and Annabelle slipped through, throwing herself onto a horse.

“Come with me Dutch!” She called to him.

Dutch started running towards her, desperate to survive. He made eye contact with her just before his vision went completely dark.

“Annie!” he screamed.

Without warning, intense pain that started in his skull, flew through his body causing him to drop to the ground. He cried out in utter terror, a truly awful sound poured from his lips. As he struggled to get up, one of the Pinkertons took the opportunity and took aim. The bullet was targeted strategically to be nonfatal. They were meaning to capture him. Pain overtook him, and he collapsed fully. Hot blood seeped from where the bullet hit his shoulder. Dutch grasped desperately at his shoulder, writhing on the ground. The pain was burning, and he lost all control of his senses. Was this it? He wondered. If it was, at least he would be with Arthur again. The former gang leader lost consciousness, the last thing he saw was the Pinkerton detectives surrounding him from all sides with greedy expressions. They came for him like hungry wolves gathering around a fallen animal.

-There is nothing you keep, there is only a reflection-

He dreamed of Annabelle, Arthur, and Hosea. Blissfully unaware of the outside world, he blocked any recollection of what was happening to him. His body was not his own. Dutch was so withdrawn into himself, most would assume he was already dead. He wished he was. Dutch had always been a survivor, but now he viewed that as a curse upon him. In his dreams, the tension, the heartache, the weight on his soul had dissipated. Holding Annabelle and laughing with Arthur and Hosea was all that mattered to him. His dream felt real, although it was smeared with a lingering sorrow. He was unaware of just how much time had passed. Dutch tried to cling to the dream as best he could, but it was no use. Slowly, he saw the expressions and features of those he loved fade away and replaced with the view of bars of the prison transport wagon. He felt ice cold in the face of his new reality.

It took him several minutes to fully take in his new surroundings. Dutch didn’t quite know where he was, but he did know that he was being transported somewhere. He looked around, past the bars on the wagon. The Pinkertons had pulled out all the stops for him. He counted at least twelve armed guards, possibly more. In a way, he was flattered that they recruited all of these gunmen just for him. The thought made him smirk. What he couldn’t understand was why they captured him, and didn’t just kill him on the spot. That did not add up, whatsoever. Dutch slowly sat up, the unsteadiness of the wagon making it more difficult on him. His shoulder screamed in pain whenever he moved. Dutch figured the bullet was still embedded. He’d had a bullet wound before, but this one was felt much worse than he remembered. Dutch couldn’t help but admit to himself that he deserved it. He deserved all of it and more. The cart ran over a large rock, causing Dutch to completely lose his balance. He grasped at the bars to steady himself. He winced, and inhaled sharply as his shoulder responded to the jolt. Once composed, he looked down at his feet. Shackles adorned his ankles, with a chain that was attached to the cart itself. Instinctually, Dutch sought an escape. He ran the chain through his fingers looking for any weak points. Similarly, he searched the prison wagon’s door for any flaws. Any attempt proved fairly useless, of course.

The sky was turning dark at this point. The caravan of Pinkertons pulled off the road for the evening. The guards aligned themselves, fully surrounding the wagon, but faced outwards. Dutch sat and watched them all. It was much more official than he experienced with the local lawmen. He knew that the Pinkertons would do anything to see him “delivered” without incident. Little did they know that no one would be coming to his rescue. “Fools…” He muttered under his breath, menacingly.

Dutch spat, “All of this for me, gentlemen? A little excessive, no?” His voice cracked, before he chuckled quietly to himself, thinking he was awfully clever.

“Just shut up!” One of the drivers replied. Dutch reclined, making sure his shoulder wasn’t touching anything in fear of angering his bullet wound. He watched the men shuffle around. Some of them seemed genuinely proud of themselves for capturing such a legend; while others were on edge, obviously anticipating an attack.

Just as he was closing his eyes to sleep, a Pinkerton came over to the door of the wagon. The man slammed a heavy fist into the metal, intending to wake him up.

“Oh my god! What could you possibly need?” His voice boomed and echoed throughout the Pinkerton’s camp. The former gang leader shifted upright, in an uncomfortable fashion. He glared at the man standing on the other side of the bars. Was he asking to be strangled? Dutch thought to himself.

The man opened his mouth to speak, “You’re gonna hang for all you did, Mr. Van Der Linde!”

Dutch rolled his eyes, “No shit!” He shot back wickedly. His voice was increasing in volume, “I believed you lot were slightly intelligent, I now realize that you’re a bunch of pathetic FOOLS!”

The rot that he was feeling inside was not outwardly shown, but the fatigue he felt weighed him down. Dutch dropped backwards, completely ignoring the Pinkerton that provoked him. Before too long he was asleep.

Dutch awoke with a slight startle. As he pulled himself up, he caught sight of her. Annabelle was here, with only metal bars separating them. Too quickly, for it aggravated his wound, Dutch stood up.

“Annabelle- you came for me?” He asked, slightly dazed. She did not speak, but nodded soothingly. Dutch watched her in anticipation. Strangely she did not seem worried or panicked about Dutch’s condition.

“You need to get me out of here, Annie.” He spoke very softly, but his desperation was recognizable in his words.

“I can’t do that, Dutch…” Annabelle’s gentle voice washed over him.  Her tone turned dark, “You are not the man I thought you were…” With those words lingering painfully, Annabelle turned her back and walked away, disappearing in mist. Dutch wanted to call out to her, call her back to him, but before he could she was gone. In a mixture of confusion and terror, and his body failing him, Dutch passed out.

This was becoming a pattern. Hours later Dutch woke up with the sun high in the sky, stinging his eyes as he forced them to open. The rocking of the prison cart was the first thing that caught his attention. He was still being transported, but he recognized the area. It looked like they were headed to Blackwater. Perfect.

Dutch’s thought was interrupted by an explosion in front of the caravan. The eruption was strategic, targeting only the riders in front of the wagon, but not the wagon itself.  In the moment, the only thing Dutch saw dismembered limbs and bodies fly in the air from the men unfortunate enough to be directly underneath the blast. In the next instant the entire prison wagon was flipped. The explosion had caused the horses leading the wagon to spook, and as they bolted in opposite directions, the wagon capsized. Dutch was able to act quick enough to land on his arms rather than directly on his neck. The impact though, had done enough. Dutch doubled over in pain, and didn’t move for several moments, trying to regain himself. He was shaking quite violently. All he could hear was a mixture of screams and gunshots. Dutch looked to his left, to see that one of the drivers had managed to get himself pinned between the wagon and the ground. The upper half of his body stuck out, and he was shrieking. It was horrible. Disoriented, Dutch pulled himself up, stumbling a bit as he stood. He inhaled sharply as the pain from his shoulder returned with a vengeance. He cradled his arm, and bit his lip to keep from crying out. It was several seconds before he realized what was actually happening. Someone was busting him out.

The gunshots ceased nearly as fast as they began. Dutch scanned the environment for any signs of his rescuer. As he did, he noticed the Pinkerton bodies that littered the road, each with perfectly placed bullets embedded in their foreheads. That is when he realized who came to free him- Micah. Micah was the only one he knew of with that kind of skill with a gun. This realization shook Dutch to his core. He did not want to see Micah. At least, he didn’t want to right now. Dutch wasn’t sure what to think, but his heart was with Arthur. Micah was extremely unwelcome in this equation. Before too long, Micah made himself visible. He slinked over to the prison wagon. Dutch eyed him, with no expression on his face. Micah surely expected gratitude, but Dutch would not oblige him that luxury.

“Hello there, boss.” Micah said slyly. Dutch remained silent. “Did you have some fun with those Pinkertons?” Micah laughed, getting to work on the lock on the prison wagon. Before too long, the lock fell, and Micah opened the door providing Dutch his freedom. It was only then that Dutch spoke, his voice was unexpectedly chilling.

“Why did you come, Micah?” There was an undeniable sting to his words.

Micah nervously laughed it off, “You’re welcome.”

Dutch stepped out, but that was all. They both looked down at Dutch’s chains that laced his ankles. Micah bent down to pick the lock. In a seamless motion Dutch reached for Micah’s gun and pointed at him. With crazed eyes and shaky hands he stared down at Micah. Micah in response shifted backwards onto the ground, and slowly put his hands up. The shock was not hidden from either of their faces. Micah however could tell that Dutch was meaning to kill. He had seen this look from Dutch before.

“Dutch….?” Micah quivered.

“Be quiet!” Dutch yelled, moving closer to him, “Don’t even think about reaching for your other gun.” Dutch wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but he was filled with pain which manifested as absolute rage. He pushed the gun’s muzzle onto Micah’s forehead. Micah felt panicked, trying to come up with the words that would get him out of this. The gun rested against Micah for a few silent, tense moments.

Without warning Dutch screamed, “Did you kill him?” His voice sounded desperate. Micah had heard this voice before, but only when the gang leader was unraveling.

“I want to help you, Dutch!” Micah rasped, trying to appeal to the crazed man in front of him.

“Answer me!” Dutch bellowed in pure agony, his voice cracking as words left his lips.  He didn’t even care if he was clearly showing his weakness. “Did you kill him?” His voice was louder this time. Dutch rested his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot him at any moment.

“You did.” Micah shot back, sinisterly, aiming to do harm. Dutch’s pause following those words was surprising to Micah. Dutch’s knees went weak, and he lost his balance slightly. While the gun was still aimed at Micah, it was clear the words took their toll.

Micah opened his mouth to speak again, “You need me. I will help you.” Micah’s tone was soft, trying to appeal to Dutch. He slowly stood up off of the ground, trading places with Dutch as the man sunk to the grass below. Dutch was paralyzed, what had come over him? The gun lowered off of his target, and fell to his knees. The once stoic and proud man was broken.

“It’s okay, boss. We’ve got a spot, it’s safe.” Micah went over to Dutch and retrieved his gun. He slowly bent over to steady Dutch, and helped him to his feet. Dutch began to cry openly, his cries did not sound like sadness, but of actual pain.

Dutch didn’t know what the future held, but his current path was not his choice. He followed Micah to the horses, and rode off for his new reality. He clung to the memories of Arthur, Annabelle, and everyone else who he lost and loved. He was not the same man he was a week ago, and he doubted he’d ever be fully intact again.

“I don’t want to waste away It was all I gave to you Take me back and take my place I will rise right up for you”

All the while you waste away, you’re asking “Did I really need another one to take me down?”